Of Granny Smith Apples and Magic
by Kalyla
Summary: Sirius Black is the well known Griffindor, the arrogant rogue, and the almost-Slytherin bad boy. He has no troubles; especially concerning the fairer sex. Yet, when a Granny Smith apple gives him a deadly idea, he considers -however briefly- a different form of romance. Couple this with the chance meeting of an unlikely American witch, Sirius finds himself no longer so careless.
1. The Granny Smith Apple

**Greetings, all! This idea for a story just kind of came to me one day, born from my previous romances with the Slytherin Bad Boys, Tom Riddle and Draco Malfoy. I was reading over reviews and I stumbled over a suggestion from fellow writer EmmaLemon, who requested that I write somethine for Sirius. Being a fellow Sirius lover (though maybe not quite so intensely as same Lemon), I though I'd give it a try. I'm still planning the plot, so don't be surprised if the second chapter takes a while. Tell me your thoughts, and I hope you enjoy! **

**P.S. I, sadly, do not own anything in any relation to the Harry Potter series that belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

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Sirius Black sat lounging outside the school near the lake at lunch time, munching on an apple. James, Remus and Wormtail were inside, eating in the Great Hall. Right now he knew that James was probably stealing glances at his heartthrob, Lily. Remus was most likely enjoying some relaxation and reading, since otherwise he spent his time trying to restrain Sirius himself from doing anything _too _unruly. Sirius scoffed to himself.

_Fat chance, that._

Wormtail was no doubt staring at his plate awkwardly as he too stole glances at the beautiful and willful Lily Evans. What had gotten into the heads of those two, Sirius would never know.

After seeing many of his mates fall prey to infatuation with the minx-like other sex, Sirius had vowed to himself that he would never allow himself to get trapped into the same thing. To be reduced to a pile of blushing goo, completely vulnerable to a female's wiles? No thank you. Not for this Black, mate.

Sirius looked back down at his Granny Smith, taking a healthy bite from the middle. He savored the tart sweetness. He had forgotten how much he liked Granny Smiths.

_Not too tart and not too sweet. If the color green had a taste, it would be Granny Smith._ He though as he chewed.

Hmm…_ perhaps if Granny Smith were a real person, I could fall in love with her, alright. _

Sirius barked a laugh at the thought. Fall in love with Granny Smith. How ludicrous!

A light breeze blew its way across the courtyard, ruffling his black mane of hair with its careless fingers. Sirius looked at the Granny Smith thoughtfully. The bitten apple seemed to challenge him with the most outrageous idea ever to be thought. His handsome face broke out into a grin.

_Alright Granny Smith, you're on. If I ever find a girl who's like a Granny Smith, maybe I'll chance to fall in love with her. _

Sirius laughed again.

_A girl not too sweet, and not too tart. Like that's ever going to happen. Damned fickle creatures, they are._

Thus chuckling to himself, he took another bit of the crazy apple. Any other time he would question himself about his sanity, taking bets and challenges from an apple. But today Sirius didn't really care. A strange sense of calm had come over him lately, and he wasn't quite sure what had caused it.

The Gryffindor shifted his seated position against his tree, leaning to put one arm behind his head.

Perhaps… perhaps it was Remus. The last shifting the poor chap had to go through had probably been the smoothest one yet. Nothing had gone wrong. Not even that nosy Malfoy had gotten in the way. Sirius himself was finding more and more ways to become comfortable in his wolf form. James was improving daily as a seeker. Bloody hell, Sirius had never seen anyone move that skillfully on a broom, except for in the professional leagues. Of course, James had the slight habit of getting too cocky and wrecking himself up. Then he would have to start all over again. Sirius shrugged and took another bit of his apple. Who could blame the boy? He was bloody gifted.

Many people envied and admired the young James Potter. Sirius was neither of these. The first day he had met James, they had both been unlearned Firsts Years, positive of what house they would get into. In James' case, he had been sure of himself and of the fact that he would get into the much sought-after House of Gryffindor.

Sirius, bite of apple in his mouth, smiled at the memory. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a cocky First Year since.

The First Year version of Sirius, however, had been miserable and moody. Everyone in his family had always gotten into the House of Slytherin. There had been no, or very little (and very well hidden) exception. He had not wanted to be a Slytherin, nor had he ever. Every person in his family was dishonorable in some way, shape, or form, save perhaps for his brother Regulus. Regulus was still alright in a few ways, but it was possible that he still had yet to grow into his Slytherin skin.

Sirius was sick of the Slytherins, and how the Slytherins acted in trend. Maybe – just maybe – there had been a handful Slytherins who had done things for good after their stay at Hogwarts. Sirius didn't know of any, but there had to be _some_.

_Of course,_ he thought while taking the last bite of his apple. _I've never been much the type to research _anyone's_ House history. That's Remus' job._

Well anyways, Sirius had felt doomed to be cast into the dreaded House of Slytherin. He had reasoned as a young lad that it must change you somehow, even if you were a good person at heart. It was as if the House slithered around you like the giant snake that was their symbol, and choked all of the goodness from you until there was only evil left. Imagine his utter surprise and ecstasy when, instead of the dreaded House of Snakes, the Hat proclaimed 'GRIFFINDOR'!

Sirius smiled broader still at the recollection. Now here he was, just as arrogant and comfortable as James. The dames of all Houses had taken a liking to his rogue-like looks. He had gained his own share of admiration for his adeptness at Defense Against the Dark Arts (though in truth, Remus was just as well if not better in that department). To tell the truth, he also wasn't too shabby on a broom himself.

Going to take another bite from his Granny Smith, Sirius noticed that he had only the core left. Sighing in disappointment, he stood up from his comfortable spot to have a better shot. Levering his arm back, he hurled the apple core as far and fast as it would go. Smiling proudly, he realized that this one had outshot his others. Only when it landed just behind a sitting rock did Sirius' proud smile turn into confusion.

"_Ow!"_ A shrill female voice pierced the air. Immediately he saw a girl sprout up from where his apple had fallen. Furiously she looked around her.

"_Who threw that!"_

Sirius smiled nervously and raked a hand through his hair. Looking around as well. He confirmed the fact that there was no one else but him. In fact, he had thought he had been alone, until his Granny Smith had decided to enlighten him.

_Bugger. I'm really in trouble now. I hope she doesn't know her jinxes all too well…_

"You!" She yelled, eyes directed at Sirius. She stood a good, long distance away, of which he was thankful for. He was even more thankful when she didn't start closing the distance with righteously violent steps. She seemed to be too flustered to think about it.

"Is it really too much to ask to be unbothered by anyone for at least an _hour! _Why can't you people give it up, for Merlin's sake!"

Sirius blinked in confused surprise. What was she talking about? It had been an honest mistake.

"Oi!" he yelled back defensively. He began walking toward her himself, wanting to straighten this out. "I haven't done anything wrong! I just threw my apple and - "

"Yes, I _know _what you threw. I also _know _what you were aiming for! I _also _know all of the lame ass excuses that you are _throwing _at me, because I've heard them all before!" Lurching forward herself a few feet, Sirius was taken aback when she met him head on with all her fury.

Poking him in the chest with a book she had been reading, she continued her tirade.

"Now you listen to me, and listen well. I'm usually an accepting person but I have had _enough. _I don't care what you people think about me, and it _shouldn't matter. _I don't _care _if it's just that you don't like Americans, or don't like muggle born, or don't like anything _else _that I am, I want you to _knock it the hell off! _So you can tell all your little Slytherin cronies to stay the hell away from me or suffer the consequences!"

Having said (or rather, screamed) her part, the girl cast him one more contemptuous glare then turned heel and stalked back to the castle. Sirius simple stood there, stunned. The first coherent thought that came to his mind was:

_She thinks I'm a Slytherin!_

He sputtered at the insult and made a note to talk to her Head Boy or Girl about it. A moment later he realized that, in all the uproar, he hadn't taken note of the colors she was wearing any more than she had done the same for him. For some reason, she had simply assumed that he had been a Slytherin bent on antagonizing her.

The second thought that occurred to him was that she had said she was American. It made sense enough, now that he realized that she had indeed had that looser, more blunt accent as compared to her British counterparts. He hadn't even noticed it, what with all the screaming. A woman screaming at him was a woman screaming at him, not matter what her origin.

_Funny. I don't think I've ever met an American exchange student before. _

Sirius shrugged once more and shook the encounter from his thoughts.

_She'll figure it all out sooner or later._

Still… he wondered what those Slytherins must have been doing to make her blow her top so completely and utterly.

Sirius shook his head at himself. Trying to play the hero, was he? Well it was none of his business, so he would just stay out of it. Unfortunately, something she had said kept cropping up again in his mind to haunt him.

"_So you can just tell all your Slytherin cronies to stay away…"_

Well, Sirius didn't have any 'Slytherin cronies' so he didn't have any obligation to do so.

On the other hand, it would be a perfect opportunity to confront that leering Malfoy and put some more combat into his life. Things had been calm lately, and it had been nice while it lasted.

Yet, when a golden chance to pick a fight with a notorious Slytherin was laid in front of him, who was he to turn it down?


	2. The Nursery Rhyme

**Well, first off, I'd like to thank those who have reviewed, friend Peter excluded cuz friends don't count in the world of reviews. Sorry Peterzoid... ;D**

**So to all two of you, thank you very much and I hope to see more reviews from you in the future! :D**

**P.S. This chapter is extremely long and most of it was written at very late (or very early, however you want to see it) hours of the night (or day). Thus I apologize if the ideas are jumbled or make no sense. I don't really know how the Ministry of Magic works, so I had to kind of feel my way along.**

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_Monday's child is fair of face._

She passingly looked at her reflection in her small bedside mirror as she entered the girl's dormitory.

_Tuesday's child is full of grace_

The girl flopped down on her bed, thankful for its softness. She began taking off her shoes and loosening her school tie. She took her time getting ready for bed.

_Wednesday's child is full of woe._

The brunette sighed, realizing that the troubles of one day were over, leaving tomorrow's hardships to be brooded over.

_Thursday's child has a long way to go._

Amelia frowned, lifting her arms in from of her face to see the time on her simple watch. It read eight-thirty on the nose.

She was Thursday's child, and sometimes she wished she knew just what having a "long way to go" meant. Perhaps it meant that she always got lost…

_Friday's child is loving and giving. _

Well, she did go down to the kitchen regularly and help with the house elves. As long as she rested and ate frequently, they didn't seem to mind.

_Saturday's child has to work for a living. _

Amelia nearly laughed out loud at that one. Hadn't she been working since she was able to know what "work" meant?

_But the child who is born on Sabbath's day is fair, and wise, and kind, and gay._

Well, she didn't know about all _that. _That specific package seemed a little too good to be true. Perhaps a man had written this nursery rhyme.

Sitting up slowly, Amelia heaved a sigh. She slid off the side of her bed and shuffled over to her nightstand. Hesitation only a second, she slid open the first drawer and reached under the collection of colorful scarves she loved so much. Feeling around on the grainy wood of the drawer, she stopped when her fingers touched something smooth and brittle to the touch. Pulling it out, she unfolded the piece of paper that had been the only token that her parents had left her with before they had dropped her off on Raymond Carver's doorstep. Flopping back on her bed and taking a moment to get under the covers, she drew the heavy bed curtains for privacy. Lighting her wand with the _Lumos _charm, she studied the note that was ingrained deep into her memory.

The writing was beautiful but faded – it was a woman's handwriting. It was the nursery rhyme that had haunted Amelia ever since she had learned how to read.

At the bottom of the note, the handwriting changed. It was now more sturdy and square than loopy, like her mother's. This handwriting belonged to her father.

_You are Thursday's child, little Amelia. Though you may have a long way to go, we cannot go with you. Please know that we love you very much, and if we are ever able to find you again after hard times have passed, we will. _

The hand changed once again to her mother's.

_I love you my little Amelia. Never forget that you have parents who love you and will see you again someday. _

_Love,_

_Your mother and father._

_P.S. Your birthday is Thursday, April 7th. Every anniversary of this date, we will be with you, celebrating._

Amelia stared at the piece of paper impassively. Those words used to torment her at night with questions that would never be answered. Why had they left her? Didn't they love her enough to keep her? What could she have possibly done wrong? When would they come back for her?

It was always this last question that would come at her the most. _Never forget you have parents who love you and will see you again someday. _Those had been her words.

So every year on her birthday, she always watched with anticipation for her parents to arrive and sweep her into their arms. She couldn't wait to kiss her mother and hug her father. She couldn't wait to call them 'Mommy' and 'Daddy'. She couldn't wait to feel the love that they spoke about in their note.

Yet as the years passed, she was disappointed again and again. When she was younger, she had thought it was because of her. She hadn't been good enough the past year so her parents didn't want her back yet. So for the next year she would work extra hard in Uncle Raymond's woodworking shop. She cleaned all of the tools to a polished shine, she swept and washed the floors spotless, she dusted all of the surfaces twice a week, and she oiled and took good care of all of Uncle Raymond's creations. She knew for _sure, _every year when April the 7th came, _this year _would be the year.

That year never came.

On her eleventh birthday, when she ran to the door every time a customer came to see if any of them had come to claim her, Old Man Carver had finally taken her aside. Uncle Raymond had been a grandfatherly figure to her, always caring and stern. He'd never had any family of his own, and had treated her with every care and every discipline as if she had been his own. She had known from the beginning that she wasn't his, though. She had a mom and dad out there, and her note proved it.

Her eleventh birthday had been the day that her world – and her heart – had changed forever.

The old man had looked at her with anxiety and regret in his eyes. He told her that he had to talk to her about two things: One of them she would not like at all, and the other was up to her to decide. Which one would she like to hear first?

Amelia thought little about the enormity of the news she was about to receive, quickly and naively replying: "Tell the bad news first, Uncle Raymond! Then the good news after that will seem even better."

Amelia remembered how his face had crumbled at the childish, carefree tone she spoke with. He had known that what he had been stuck with telling her would ruin her world, and he had been powerless to stop it.

"Amelia… it was by no whim that your parents left you at my doorstep when you were only a baby. I was there when you were born. I am… was… a good friend of your father's, and your parents christened me your Godfather."

Amelia's brow crinkled a little, but she nodded her acceptance.

"You've taken good care of me, Uncle Raymond. I really like it here." She remembered wondering if he was going to kick her out.

Uncle Raymond had nodded with a little smile and had ruffled her hair a little. "Thank you, my little mouse, but that's not the news. What I want to tell you is that… your parents are… were … magical beings."

Raymond had seemed to have trouble trying convey his message to her. Uncle Raymond _never _lied and detested lying. She had no doubt immediately that he had spoken the truth. Amelia's eyebrows had raises impossibly high on her forehead as he eyes dawned with the light of understanding.

Or so she had thought.

"You mean they're…!"

Uncle Raymond nodded grim confirmation. Amelia had clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from shrieking with glee.

"My parents are _fairies! _I'm the daughter of fairies!"

"Yes, Amelia, they're… _what! _No, girl! No! Your father is a wizard and your mother a squib!" Uncle Raymond had looked appalled that she had even begun to _think _that she had come from fairy lineage. Knowing what she knew now, she understood his reaction. Fairies, in the Americanized sense of the term, were often depicted as human-sized beings gifted with magical power and flight. Faeries in the magical sense of the term were small beings, usually about the size of the human pinky or thumb. They were also known to be quite wicked and mischievous at times, choosing to wreak havoc in the human world rather than grant boons to whosoever wished.

"Oh." Amelia had said. For a moment she had appeared a little crestfallen. After all, the dream of every little girl – to have some relation to those wonderful beings called fairies – had been snatched away before her very nose. Then, however, what Uncle Raymond had said sank in.

"But that's just as cool! My parents are wizards? So they can make magic spells … and… and… fly on brooms?"

Uncle Raymond had begun to shake his head fervently. "No, no, child. Your _father_ is a wizard, and your mother is a _squib."_

Amelia had frowned in confusion. "A squib? What's that? I've never read about that kind of magical creature before…"

Raymond sighed. "No, I don't suppose you have. A squib is a person who, by every means, _should be _a witch or wizard, but who lacks magical power. A squib cannot fly, or cast magical spells, or even brew potions. They do, however, have knowledge of the magical world. Your mother for instance, is fluent in twenty magical languages."

Amelia's eyes had bugged out at this seemingly Herculean feat.

"Wow."

Uncle Raymond had nodded sagely. He had a wistful glitter in his eyes as he continued.

"And your father is a master wizard. He knows and has created more handy spells than I have ever dreamed of mastering."

Amelia smiled a little at this, but a thought had occurred to her.

"Uncle Raymond… how is this bad news? And why…" but the young Amelia lost her courage to speak her question, choosing instead to fiddle with the hem of her shirt.

Uncle Raymond had patiently lifted her chin up so that they were eye to eye.

"You can ask me anything you want, Meela. I will answer you as best I can."

Amelia's eyes had gotten a little misty then, but she blinked the tears back. She tried hard not to be scared of the answer to the question she was about to ask him.

"If mom and dad were so powerful… then why did they leave me?"

Raymond had looked struck by this, no doubt taken aback. His face had once again crumpled. He'd pulled Amelia up onto his lap and into one of his rare but warm hugs. At this sudden outburst of affection, young Amelia couldn't stop a few tears from escaping.

"Uncle Raymond?" She asked weepily.

"Yes, my little Amelia?" He asked back in a voice husky with his own sadness.

"Did they leave because… because I'm not magical like they are?"

Uncle Raymond was silent for a few seconds, and Amelia had taken it for the worst. She cried out right now, sobbing little sobs into his starched worker's shirt. Immediately Uncle John had pulled away from her just enough to see her face and wipe her tears away.

"Hush, hush, Amelia. It isn't that at all. Don't you know that you're more magical than they had ever dreamed of?"

Trying to turn her sobs into sniffles, Amelia looked at him through puffy eyes. "What?"

Uncle Raymond chuckled a little, and reached into his pocket for his handkerchief. He held the square of cloth to her nose in a fatherly gesture.

"Blow."

Amelia complied, feeling more like a child than ever. Uncle Raymond had waited until her nose was dry before her continued.

"Now then…" Throwing the handkerchief aside, he set his hands on her small shoulders. "Amelia, there's something I should have told you long ago. Unfortunately your parents wanted me to have you live as a normal child until you were of age to begin your learning. Amelia…" he paused to pinch her nose. "Amelia, you a_re _a witch. You are a witch with very powerful natural talent."

Seeing that Amelia looked unconvinced, Raymond had sighed and thought.

"What will convince you…? Oh yes!" A sudden light sparkled in his eyes.

"Amelia, do you remember that time you told me about the dream you had? Remember the dream where you had climbed up the oak tree down the road and had wanted to fly with the birds when, all of a sudden, you were?"

Amelia nodded uncertainly. "Yeah. It had felt so real that I didn't believe you when you said it was a dream."

Uncle Raymond smiled. "Well, Amelia, it _wasn't _a dream. I hadn't thought it possible at first, so I told you that it had been a part of that overactive imagination of yours. I thought you had fallen asleep underneath that tree and had dreamt about flying around it. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Later that evening I went down to the old tree myself, just out of curiosity. And you know who I met?"

He hadn't even waited for her answer.

"I met that little boy from across the street. He was looking up into the sky with the most puzzled look I've ever seen on a boy. He looked up as I approached and said, 'Oh, Mr. Carver! Did you ever make a kite shaped like a girl?'

_ "_And I asked him why he asked this. He replied that he had seen what looked like a girl flying up in the sky. I knew then and there that your dream hadn't been a dream at all. So I told the poor boy that I had indeed been working on a few kite designs, which _wasn't _a lie, mind you." He said quickly, catching her slanted look. "I have indeed been working on some interesting kite patterns. I couldn't very well tell him that my Goddaughter was a witch and had already had her first flying experience… _without _a broom. I honestly didn't even know that that was possible.

"So you see, Amelia, you definitely _are _your parents child, and they had sensed the power in you the moment you were born. Your mother and father did not want to leave you."

Amelia's young face had slowly formed into the fiercest frown that she had ever carried. Her tears were all but dried, and had left in their wake the sense of being horribly and unjustly wronged.

"Then why did they?" She bit out.

Seeing Uncle Raymond's sudden intake of breath and taking it as an unwillingness to answer, Amelia tried to launch herself away from him and run away. Uncle Raymond, however, was one step ahead of her. Taking a firm grasp of her shoulders and planting her in front of him, he ignored her desperate cries to let her go.

"Amelia, you know I love you like any parent. I hate telling this to you as much as you hate hearing it, but by Merlin, it has to be done."

All Amelia heard was his mention of Merlin, the famous wizard who aided King Arthur and his Knight of the Round Table. Amelia had always assumed it was just one of Uncle Raymond's quirks to use Merlin's name as an oath instead of any deity's. Now she knew better.

"You're a wizard too, aren't you!" She suddenly yelled. She struggled in his grasp. "That's why we never have any trouble around here! If you were a wizard, why didn't you tell me! Why didn't you find my parents and bring them back?"

Amelia was now bordering on hysterics, fighting like a mad cat and crying and screaming at the same time. Uncle Raymond, through it all, waited patiently and firmly, not letting her leave.

Finally she began shaking all over, trembling so much that she couldn't fight even if she wanted to. The tears were running continuously down her face and Amelia knew she had never felt to miserable.

Uncle Raymond collected her to his chest and began rocking her back and forth as if she was just a toddler again, crying over a scraped knee. She brought up a fist with the intention of hitting him in the chest, but somehow she ended up clutching his shirt instead.

"Your parents… were good people. They were good people who got into some trouble with bad people. You _must_ understand that they never wanted to leave you and wouldn't have if it hadn't been to protect you. You see… when your parents had just found out that they were going to have a baby, they were ecstatic. They simply couldn't keep it to themselves.

"Your mother has a sister, your aunt, who _does _have magic. But Maggie never wanted to do good with her magic, as your mother would have, had she had the power. No… your Aunt Maggie was, from an early age, enraptured with the Dark Arts. Nevertheless, your mother loved her sister very much, and she was one of the first people they told, besides myself. Your Aunt Maggie sensed your natural power before you were even born, because she not only had a knack for the Dark Arts, but also for Divination. It was with this Divination that she saw that you would be a power to recon with… and to Maggie's twisted mind, she imagined you would even threaten her own power in time.

"Months passed without incident. Eventually, however, word leaked to your father that Maggie had a scheme that was going to bind him and your mother in servitude to her while at the same time getting rid of… well, getting rid of you."

Here Amelia finally interrupted, hysterics having abated. "But she didn't even know me! I didn't even know I have… magical powers… until now! How could I threaten her?"

Uncle Raymond shook his head.

"I can't try and explain to you the workings of an insane woman's mind. I wish I could. Such a power would save us all a lot of trouble."

Raymond cleared his throat, and began his story again.

"Well, while your father was finding out about this scheme, a new man was entering the scene. Gregory Malanoff is a wizard just as Dark and unhinged as your aunt, and it chanced that they met one night at a meeting about…" Uncle had trailed off and given her an uncomfortable look. He shook his head.

"Well, anyway, they met at a meeting whose contents are not to be spoken of at this time. They began talking to each other about their different plots to gain power in their families and ensure that no one stop them and such… well, needless to say, they hit it off." Uncle barked an ironic laugh. "If I had ever heard of two insane people meeting each other and forming a relationship… but that is besides the point. The point is that now Maggie had teamed up with a powerful and very malicious wizard who held none of the sentimental attachments that Maggie did to her sister. When he heard about the baby that your mother was carrying, and how it was sure to have great power someday, he had a different idea from Maggie's. Gregory had been working on a spell: a ritual almost. This ritual made it possible for one witch or wizard, if powerful enough, to steal another witch or wizard's power, if they were weak enough. Though the technique had not yet been completed, Gregory had the idea to wait until you were born and not kill you. No, he wanted to wait until you were older and had gained experience, he wanted to wait until you had developed your magic. Then he would come after you and would take away your powers."

Amelia's eyes had grown wide. "You can do that?"

Uncle Raymond had given her a very sharp look. He had suddenly taken on a very stern change, grim knowledge settling into his every pore. There was no little intensity in his voice and eyes when he next spoke his warning.

"Listen to me, Amelia, and never forget my words. Those who are born into this world are meant to keep whatever gifts are given to them. If a person is born with magic then that magic is a _part _of them. To steal someone's magic is nearly equivalent to a Dementor's Kiss. Magic is not a separate entity that can be found in a witch or wizard's soul: it is part of their soul, it is a part of their very being. At the same time, when a witch or wizard takes on what gifts are not rightfully theirs, there is bound to be consequence. Perhaps such a consequence would not show itself immediately or could not be seen on the physical body, but there would always be one. I know it is difficult for you to grasp, but you have to understand that the Dark Arts never give you something without demanding something in return." Uncle grew a strange glint in his eye. "Often times, the sacrifice is greater than the reward."

Amelia had nodded carefully. Frankly at the moment she had been more worried about Uncle Raymond than anything. She shivered even now, on her bed at Hogwarts, just thinking about that glint in his eyes. She hoped that she never saw it again.

"Your aunt, certain in the success of her beloved's genius plan, held nothing back from your parents. She told them all, sure that there was nothing they could do about it. Maggie, however, has never known the power that love can have when it is in its purest form.

"When your mother finally gave birth to you, eleven years today, she knew that she would have to give you up to protect you. She called your aunt over, demanding that she come alone and without Gregory, to see you. Some part of her, I am sure, hoped that when Maggie saw you, her niece, she would forget about her hideous plans. But of course, her sister was beyond that. So your mother did they only other thing she thought she could do for your protection. She forced Maggie to comply with a vow – an Unbreakable Vow – that stated that Maggie would never harm you in any way, shape, or form as long as your mother and father worked along beside her. Your father had to promise also because it was his powers that Maggie wanted most in the first place. Of course, your mother could do nothing about Gregory: he would not have taken the Unbreakable Vow and probably would have killed your mother and father on the spot. Maggie, in acceptance of the Vow, promised also that Gregory would not harm either of them… though he could not say the same for you. Now, just as the Unbreakable Vow had been made – your safety in return for your parents' servitude – Maggie asked that she see you. Little did she know, however, that you had already been cloaked with protection charms of every kind and then some and laid on my door step. When Maggie found this out and related it to Gregory, they were both furious. Gregory scoured the country for you, refusing to me out smarted. You might think that he might just find another person to prey on, but I think that it was more a matter of his pride.

"He could not, as you can see, find you. You have been completely and utterly safe all these years because you have no Trace on you whatsoever. In Europe and the United Kingdome, which is where most of the witches and wizards in the world have congregated, there is a law that any magical person has something called the Trace on them until they come of age. The Trace tracks any magic you perform out of educational zones, and punishes you accordingly. But you, however, were never Traced. This is because you were written down as a squib, just like your mother. One of the most cunning and potentially dangerous spells your father had ever created for you was one that had to be used the moment you were born. This spell is made to make invisible your power that rested within you for span of months, if not years. It was designed to wear off within at least three years, but by then the Ministry of Magic – which is what they have as a government in the wizardry world of England – had already looked you over. I was dubious that it would work, but to my knowledge, it certainly has. Of course, you don't have a wand yet or know any spells. But this will change very soon, I assure you."

Amelia's head had taken a position of resting on her Uncle's chest. She felt coiled and tense inside, as if she would never relax or laugh again. At the same time she felt so exhausted that she just wanted to sleep and pretend this had never happened. So many questions had been answered by Raymond's story, but so many were created as well.

Amelia settled for choosing the one that most worried her. It was also the one, she knew, that would probably have the least certain answer.

"Uncle?"

"Yes, Meela."

"How do you know all of this?"

Raymond had heaved a great sigh, as if he had hoped she wouldn't ask that.

"Well, Meela... I don't. This is what I've pieced together through what your father told me face to face before they disappeared, and through what he wrote me when you were left on my doorstep. Your note wasn't the only thing you were brought with. Your father wrote a hurried account of everything up to your mother's plan for the Unbreakable Vow. I don't know how things truly turned out because they weren't able to write to me after you had been delivered and the Unbreakable Vow taken. I can only hope for the best, seeing as no one has come after you and there had been no sign indicating your parents' deaths."

"How would you know? If they... you know... weren't..." Amelia found that she couldn't finish her sentence. Thankfully, Uncle Raymond understood.

"Believe me, Amelia. I would know."

"So... Mom and Dad are safe, right?"

Uncle Raymond rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

"I'm sure they are, Amelia. I knew you parents very well. Nothing short of divine intervention could force them to leave this world without seeing you again. You are their world."

Amelia felt a burning lump in her throat and she felt like sobbing again, but all of her tears were dried up for tonight.

"Are you sure they love me?"

Uncle Raymond sighed softly and clucked his tongue at her. Lifting up her chin gently, he made her look him in the eyes.

"After all I've told you? They love you more than their lives. Amelia," he began with warmth in his eyes. "Amelia, your father would have given up his magic for you, and you should understand what a statement it is to say that. No wizard can ever truly know what it feels like to be 'normal'. Even before they are aware that they are magical beings, a wizard or witch's magic finds ways to manifest itself in the earliest of ages. Even before they knew they are special, they know they are different. But your father would have become a magic-less human for you, no matter how hard it was, and he would considered such a price unimaginably small. And your mother… there's no telling what she would do for you. I know for sure she'd give her life if it meant keeping you alive."

Amelia nodded. Somehow, the words were comforting and empty at the same time. He was just repeating what he had already said. There was still a part in Amelia that would never trust the reality of loving parents until she could see, hear, and feel them in real life.

"Uncle? One more question?"

"Anything, sweet pie."

"What are their names?"

There was a moment of silence. Amelia glanced up worriedly, wondering if she had said something wrong. She was reassured when Uncle Raymond began chuckling at himself.

"That's right, isn't it! I never said their names…"

Amelia waited with baited breath, never considering why this seemed so important to her.

"Your father is Jonathan Anthony Quinne, and your mother is Abigail Grace Quinne."

When Amelia heard her mother's name, she felt something warm bloom in her chest, and she suddenly felt like laughing.

"Uncle? Do you know what day my mom was born on?"

Uncle Raymond looked down at her with curiosity. "Well, I think it was a Tuesday, if I remember correctly. Why do you ask?"

She smiled sleepily into his shirt.

"Tuesday's child is full of grace. Her middle name is Grace. I wonder if that was on purpose?"  
Raymond's chest rumbled against her cheek with laughter.

"You are your mother's daughter, little Meela. And you," he pinched her nose in his affectionate way. "You are Amelia Beatrice Quinne. Never forget that."

He kissed her on the forehead like the father that he had been to her.

"Never forget to be proud of who you are, Amelia."

Amelia had nodded sleepily at the time. She didn't remember how she had fallen asleep that night, or how she had made it to her bed even. She simply knew that the next morning when she had woken up, her life had changed drastically. She had cried herself to sleep off and on for a month, knowing that she may never see her parents. After that night, Uncle Raymond had begun to school her in the practices of magic. He had even made her first wand for her.

The light on the wand she currently held in her hand began to flicker, and only then was she aware of just how tired she was.

Carefully folding the note of paper that was her only tie to her parents, she slid it under the pile of scarves in her drawer once more. Taking off her school robe and laying it out over her trunk at the bottom of her bed, she snuggled under her covers once more. Amelia tried not to wonder what her parents looked like, or what their voices sounded like, or what their hugs felt like as she began to fall asleep. She was determined not to mourn her parents when her life was looking up in the face of this amazing education opportunity that Uncle Raymond had secured for her. No matter how many Slytherin dolts bothered her, no matter how many spells and potions she botched because of her little previous education, she was determined to follow Uncle's advice.

Amelia Beatrice Quinne was determined to be proud of who she was.


	3. The Spell of Shoes

**I'd just like to apologize for how long this chapter took. I went on a nine-day vacation on which I barely wrote anything, and then it took me a few more days to get it done after that. But anyways, my special thanks to all that gave me feedback in their reviews, and I hope this chapter makes you laugh!**

* * *

Sirius' shoes clicked down the hall as he strode purposefully to the dungeons. He hadn't taken James or Remus with him for this little confrontation. Remus was helping James with his Astronomy assignment anyway, and Wormtail was off doing who-knew-what. He didn't mind one bit. James was good fun and all, but sometimes he went a little… mental. He just liked giving Slytherins what they disserved, Sirius knew, but sometimes it felt like the strong praying on the weak.

Sirius felt a mischievous grin spread on his face. Yes, when it was James against Snivellus, it _was _the strong praying the weak. But this was Sirius against Malfoy. Though Sirius would never admit it out loud, the two were equally matched. Of course, knowing Malfoy, he'll try to have his mates help him in dubious ways.

Luckily for Sirius, he was very good with his stunning spells.

Lucius Malfoy and his gang always loitered around the dungeons, brewing their new plots and schemes. The last prank they had played had ended a poor Hufflepuff up on Forbidden Forest duty with the Potion's Master to collect rare ingredients for potions. The Hufflepuff had been unfortunate enough to trip on his shoe laces and stumble into Malfoy, earning him his time with Professor Slughorn in one of the most dangerous places known to Hogwarts students. The poor chap didn't like talking about his experience in the Forbidden Forest, so no one knew for sure what went on there. For some reason, however, whenever someone made comment about spiders he would turn pale and start shaking like a leaf.

Suddenly, the sound of cruel laughter echoed throughout the hall, pulling Sirius from his thoughts. Alerted to the presence of others, he stopped before he turned the corner he was about to take. He didn't have long to wait. The steps of three, maybe four people were gathering closer. Sirius narrowed his eyes and gripped his wand beneath his cloak. There was no mistaking the laugh that was slightly colder than all the others. His target had been found.

Taking bold strides, Sirius rounded the corner with a cocky grin. There, as expected, was Lucius Malfoy and his two favorite acquaintances: Aristock Gibbon, and Severus Snape. One of Lucius' usually group of three was missing, but Sirius paid no attention. Upon seeing Sirius, Snape froze and snarled, greasy hair falling in front of his face.

Sirius in turn leaned nonchalantly against the wall he was nearest to, propping one foot against it.

"Don't worry, Snape." He commented as he took out a green apple and paring knife. He cut a slice out of the apple and began munching. "James isn't here to best you."

Instead of flushing in anger, Snape paled to an deathly hue, livid fire lighting up his eyes. He reached for his wand, but the pale and commanding hand of Lucius reached out to stop him. He never took his eyes off of Sirius' face. His trademark snide smile slid across his face as he assessed his opponent.

"What is this about, Blood Traitor? I've got better things to do than look at the likes of you."

Sirius shrugged himself of his wall and took a few steps forward, making himself as intimidating as possible. He suddenly felt a feeling akin to that of stalking prey in his wolf form. The feeling gave him an immeasurable boost of confidence. He cut out another wedge of his apple.

"Word has it you've stooped as low as to begin harassing dames. Now that's low, even for you Malfoy. Just because a girl has the sense to decline your bribery doesn't give you reason to torment her." Spearing the wedge of green apple on his paring knife, he took a bite out of it.

Malfoy sneered in response. "What I do with the ladies is none of your concern, Black. I suggest you stay out of my business or you will find yourself ill disposed."

Sirius frowned at the pale skinned Slytherin. "Stuff it, Malfoy. A girl asked me to tell you to leave off, so I am. What is she to you anyways, that you would give her such trouble?"

Sirius gritted his teeth after finishing that last sentence. He hadn't meant to ask Malfoy that. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, and now Malfoy knew that Sirius didn't know everything.

Malfoy seemed to about to retort when a shout from the end of the hall behind him made him turn. Sirius followed his gaze. More shouts and sounds of struggle issued from around the corner. As the new party grew closer, Sirius knew something was off. The shouting voice was female, that was for sure. Could it be…?

His thoughts were confirmed as a few more steps revealed the girl from the other day being handled rather roughly by Brutus Avery, the third of Malfoy's henchmen.

"Let me _go! _And give me back my wand so I can hex off your – "

"Now, now, Carver." Interjected Malfoy. "Let's not be hasty."

The girl – Something Carver, as it seemed – glared a look the seethed with malice. She finally jerked out of Avery's restrictive hold and crossed her arms. Sirius got the distinct feeling that she was restraining herself from lashing out at the leader of the pack. Though she may not have known who all was connected with Malfoy, she certainly seemed to be acquainted with Malfoy himself.

To his right, movement caught Sirius' eye. Snape was retreating farther into the shadows, looking as if he wished to be unseen. Sirius had a moment's confusion before the girl noticed he Slytherin's presence as well.

Her jaw went slack and her arms flopped down to her sides.

"_Severus?_" she looked at him wide-eyed. "Are _you _part of this too!"

When Snape only avoided eye contact. Carver shook her head and looked away, muttering something under her breath. That was when she locked eyes with Sirius.

Immediately the sad veil that had covered her eyes upon seeing Severus' true colors turned into fiery rage.

"_You!_ You're the one I met the other day!"

Sirius raised his eyebrows and raised his apple wedge to his mouth once more. The motion drew the girl's gaze downward, where she caught sight of his school colors. Wrinkling her brow and cocking her head, she stared at his red and gold tie.

"You're a Gryffindor?"

At the same time, Sirius had been assessing her own school uniform. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief at what he saw. He shoved apple and paring knife into his pocket, taking a step forward as if to get a closer look. His appetite was forgotten.

"You're a _Slytherin?_"

Sirius turned to look at Lucius in bewilderment.

"You've begun to pick on your own house, eh Malfoy? Getting too bored with the usual?"

Malfoy snarled in return. "Shut your mouth, Black. This has got nothing to do with you. You'd be wise to back out now before you run back to your Gryffindors with your tail between your legs."

The girl ignored Malfoy and shot another question at Sirius.

"You're not helping them? But the other day, I thought – "

"Well you thought wrong!" Sirius snapped. "I'd never have anything to do with you Slytherins, unless it's to show you your place!"

It was as if he had slapped her. Carver stared at Sirius, seemingly stunned by his words. Almost immediately he wanted to take them back. She had never done anything to him, other than mistaking him for a Slytherin. It wasn't her fault, he knew. What was said, was said, however. Besides, it was the truth, wasn't it? He hated all Slytherins. No exceptions.

The shock faded from the girl's face, replaced by livid anger.

Without warning, she turned and clipped Avery in the jaw. Malfoy and Gibbon shouted as the boy stumbled back against the opposite wall. The sound of wood clattering to the ground drew their attention next. Lucius lunged to grab the girl, but it was too late. She emerged from the scuffle holding her wand and Avery's also. Throwing Avery's down the hall behind her, she pointed her own want at the advancing Gibbon and Malfoy. Instantly they stopped, eyeing her magical instrument warily. Apparently, they had been stung by its magic before.

A movement from the shadows caught Sirius' attention. He had just a second to register the picture of Snape bringing out his own wand before the spell _Expelliarmus _was shouted.

Sirius had to dodge as Snape's wand went flying at least fifteen feet down the hall. Carver had Malfoy and Gibbon back under her own wand before it landed. Looking very grave, she began to give her orders.

"Now," she began. "I am going to go my own way, and no one is going to stop me. If you try to follow me, or harass me, or damn well even _look _at me, I will do my uttermost to see that you never do again. Do I make myself clear?"

Her voice had grown more and more quiet as she spoke. Sirius was beginning to feel the icy vibrations of malice rolling off her in waves that spoke much more loudly than her words. This witch was not to be intimidated.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned._

Carver slowly began backing Lucius and Gibbon to the wall where Avery sat nursing a very swollen jaw. Something told Sirius that the boy was trying to hide a broken tooth.

As the girl began closing the distance between her and Sirius, he held his breath. His eyes became glued to her wand, held so masterfully in her deceivingly dainty hand. Her attention never left the two Slytherins, however, and she barely spared him a glance. For some reason, this irked him a little. Wasn't important enough to bother with, was he? He let out his breath in an annoyed huff.

By now the girl had reached the corner that Sirius had turned earlier. Without hesitation, she made a sweeping motion across the floor with her wand. Sirius yelped in protest as he felt the brush of a spell go past him.

A few moments passed before he realized that he hadn't been hit. Looking around at the other four occupants of the hall, he saw looks of identical confusion. None of them had been hit. At least, not that they knew of.

When Sirius looked back to ask the girl what gives, she was gone. Growling in frustration, Sirius lifted his leg to start after her. That is, he _tried _to lift his leg.

It wouldn't move.

Staring down at his shoes in shock, he realized what the witch's spell had done. The bottoms of his shoes had become one with the stone floor. A quick look back at the others confirmed that they were in the same predicament. The only difference was that Avery, who was still sitting on the floor, seemed to be connected to the floor by his arse as well.

Malfoy was fuming.

"What the bloody hell kind of magic is this! Stupid witch! I'll get her for this!"

Sirius rolled his eyes as the pure-blooded snob continued his tantrum. He looked back at his shoes, trying to find a way out of this. If there was one thing he didn't intend to do, it was spend Merlin-knows-how-long trapped in the same vicinity as the people he most hated. Not without a fight, he wouldn't.

He reached into his inner robe pocket and drew out his wand. Trying several severing spells of different intensities, all he was rewarded was frustration and hot feet. Head pounding in anger, he shoved his wand away. He leaned his forearms on his knees and stared at his shoes intently, ignoring the chaotic spell making and cursing going on behind him. There had to be some way to get out of this…!  
As the residual waves of spells wafted past him, Sirius watched as his shoelaces twitched in the artificial breeze.

_Shoelaces…_

Sirius' eyes widened at the thought that had passed his mind. He stared at his shoes in disbelief, fighting to keep a strangled laugh at bay. There was no way it could be that simple…

With one hand, Sirius reached down and grabbed one end of his right shoelace. With a sharp tug, he let loose the bow. Instantly he felt his shoe become more loose around his foot. Experimentally, he tugged on his leg, and nearly cried out in shock when his heal came loose of his uniform black shoe. Smothering his joy, Sirius glanced around surreptitiously at the other inmates of Carver's spell. Malfoy was cursing loudly and stupidly spelling his own feet into oblivion. Gibbon was trying to pry his fat shoes off of the floor with his meaty hands, sputtering and sweating as he did so. Avery was exclaiming about his tooth and occasionally spitting out blood as he cursed the witch who did this. A final glance at Snape confirmed that the moody wizard was of no threat. In fact, Snape sat doing absolutely nothing, arms and head resting on his knees.

Disregarding the others, he undid his shoelaces as nondescriptly as he could. From time to time he muttered aggravated spells, knowing that the others would catch on to his silence more quickly than anything else. Once his feet were free, he quietly slinked off down the hall and around the corner before anyone could notice.

Strolling comfortably in his worn-out socks, Sirius put his hands idly in his pockets. As his fingers touched something round and sticky, he pulled out his right hand in surprise, holding the forgotten Granny Smith apple. With a smile he tugged the paring knife out of the core where he had stuck it and cut himself a third wedge.

_Wait till I tell the lads._

* * *

Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy had reached his limit. With an irate look at his watch, he realized that they had been at this for about half an hour. His usually austere and arrogant face was shiny with sweat and contorted in rage. Forcefully restraining himself from snapping his wand in two, he instead barked back at Black.

"Oi, Black! Got any bright ideas, since you seem to be so friendly with the girl?"

When his snide comment got no reply, he whipped his torso around to see the other boy.

"Oi!" he barked. "I'm talking to – "

No one. He was talking to no one. Lucius stared in befuddlement at the spot where Sirius Black had been. Now only two shoes, shoelaces curling on the floor, remained.

Lucius began sputtering and pointing, disbelief etched on his face. Eventually the rest of the group looked to see what had gotten the boy so worked up. Even Snape came out of his dark thoughts to see Sirius's seemingly impossible escape.

With a roar of rage, Lucius dropped to his feet and began fumbling with his own shoelaces. Muttering many obscenities, the rest of the boys did the same.

The House of Slytherin was docked twenty points by Professor McGonagall for the four boys being late to Transfigurations class, and an additional two points each for not having suitable clothing on.

The professor had remarked that it seemed "absolutely ludicrous that four grown boys could not even remember to put on their shoes!"


	4. The Sorting

**And the plot thickens!**

* * *

Amelia stared at roll of parchment and sighed. History of Magic class would put her to sleep if she paid attention. The ghost Professor droned on about the life of Merlin-knows-what-wizard as Amelia day dreamed to herself. She planned to read the history herself once she was out of here, so there was no reason to stress about it. Books usually gave just as solid information as people, _especially _when the person was Professor Binns and every word he said floated over the tops of students' heads.

As she listened lazily to the droning of Professor Binns much as she would listen to the lulling water of the ocean, Amelia looked around the room. All of the students were from different parts of Europe or the Middle East. She knew none of them. Though she didn't stand out as far as looks went – what with her wiry brown hair, brown eyes, and unexciting looks - as soon as she opened her mouth she was an outsider. That was how she felt, at least. Everyone had some kind of accent from their homes, and she was no different. She was simply the only one with blunt vowels, slightly inarticulate words, and a loose manner of speaking. She was certainly the only one who said things like 'chick' and 'far out'. She was also quick to realize that she was more apt to curse with _real _curse words when she was angry, as opposed to saying "bloody hell" or "rubbish". She supposed that the ever-proper British were nothing compared to a Californian like her. Still, perhaps she should tone it down a little…

Just then the ringing that represented the end of class was heard, and students in History of Magic class groggily began stumbling to their feet and out the door. Amelia did the same as she slung her book-leaden bag on to her shoulder, grunting under its weight.

_Well, _she thought. _At least I know that if I get attacked, I have a heavy weapon with me. _

As Amelia merged in with the flood of students and shuffled along with traffic, she thought about the class she had next. She believed that it would be Defense Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindors.

D.A.D.A. was probably her least favorite and most successful class of all her classes. Her uncle had been teaching her these lessons ever since her eleventh birthday. On the chance that one day she would meet her parents and, more importantly, her insane aunt and uncle-in-law, he had prepared her for nearly everything they could throw at her. Everything, that is, except the magic-stealing ritual he continually warned her about. Because no one who encountered it yet had lived to tell the tale, it was the greatest and most dangerous secret attack of all. Yet, Uncle Ray had been convinced that it had been used, and on increasingly powerful witches and wizards at that.

Keeping an eye on the news as much as he could, Ray had noticed a series of attacks that the 'Muggle'-world (Amelia always thought that the word to describe non-magical humans was odd at best and insulting at worst) had interpreted as "impossible". All of the victims were young, healthy, and successful in the world. There was no preference of the attacker towards male or female victims, as is common in normal serial killers. All of them were found dead with seemingly no cause of death. There were no cut wounds, not blunt-object injuries, no brain damage, no poison, no… anything. The only thing that forensic investigators could find in common with the victims was that three spots – one on either of the victims' palms, and one of the forehead – had circles of pink, raw skin. It was almost as if the attackers had scrubbed the victims clean in these three places. Other than that, the only clue left for detectives was the absolutely terrified look they had carried, even in death.

Amelia shivered at the thought, and was glad that she wasn't one of those forensic investigators who had seen the bodies. Of course, Muggles wouldn't understand the significance of such an attack. Uncle Ray had already formed the theory that the magic was _sucked out _of the unfortunate witch or wizard through the palms of their hands and forehead. These, he had told her, were the three places where magic was most acute on the human body. He was positive after the third body of these attacks was discovered that the magic-stealing ritual had been perfected.

Amelia knew that nothing in Defense Against the Dark Arts could prepare any of them for that. It was much like the Killing Curse in that way.

"Amelia Carver?"

Amelia's head shot up and her dark train of thought was vanished. The Slytherin Prefect was calling to students as they passed, "Amelia Carver?".

After tamping down the instinctive urge to tell him that her name was Amelia _Quinne_ – after all, what was the point of changing your last name for protection if you were just going to blurt it out anyway – she waded through the crowd to him.

"That's me!" she waved her arm. As Amelia came to stand beside the Prefect, he smiled disdainfully, seemingly unable to give a sincere smile. This is how it had been with all the Slytherins she had met.

_And even one Gryffindor,_ she thought to herself.

"The Headmaster wants to see you." The Prefect all but snarled. He shoved a slip of folded parchment in her face and departed.

Blinking at the abrupt behavior, Amelia shook her head in wonderment. One would think that after two weeks of settling in, _someone _might not treat her as if she carried the plague. Alas, such a high demand was too much to ask for.

Turning her direction and heading for the statue that lead to the Headmaster's office, Amelia considered the slip of parchment in her hands. She knew what it was, even if she didn't know what it said. Headmaster Dumbledore had told her upon her arrival that he may have need to send for her, and that he would present her with his office's password when that time came. When she had asked why he didn't just tell her the password now, he had told her that he changed it frequently for his own reasons.

She was almost positive that Dumbledore wouldn't trust the password to his office with just anyone. Either the Slytherin Prefect was more trustworthy that he made himself out to be, or…

Unfolding the piece of parchment with curiosity, Amelia wasn't surprised when she found it blank. She _was _confused as to how to get the password, however. Amelia bit her lip and shoved the parchment back into her cloak pocket. The crowd of students was thinning greatly, signaling that the time for the next class to start was nearing. The young witch paid no attention as she clicked her way down the hall and to the gargoyle statue that Dumbledore had shown her. Turning one final corner in the maze-like castle, she slowed to stand in front of the entryway statue. She stared it in the eye, daring the enchanted stone to blink.

"I guess you'll want a password, don't you?" she asked the seemingly inanimate object. The gargoyle just stared straight ahead. It didn't even twitch.

Amelia _humph_ed in indignation.

"I was just trying to make some conversation…"

When her feeble attempts were rewarded with more stony silence, she sighed and took out the crumpled piece of parchment for further inspection.

Smoothing it out with her hands, she turned it this way and that, wondering if the ink was enchanted. But that wouldn't make any sense, now would it? Why would Dumbledore charm the ink when she didn't know how to uncharm it?

Flipping the paper over to the other side for inspection, Amelia was surprised to find miniscule writing in the lower right corner. Squinting at the small letters, she smooth out the corner with her thumb nail.

_Remember your name._

'Remember your name'? That didn't make any sense. Yet, after peering at it for a good minute, Amelia had to admit that that was, without a doubt, what the paper said.

_Remember my name… huh. Well, I guess it's worth a try…_

"Amelia Carver." She murmured to the parchment.

No change. Flipping it over to the other side confirmed likewise.

_He couldn't mean to…_

Glancing around the gall to make sure no one would hear her except for the gargoyle statue, Amelia looked back at the parchment. Amelia Carver wasn't her real name, of course. Carver was Uncle Ray's last name that she had adopted for protection. Maybe the spell wanted her _true _name.

Bringing the paper to her lips and whispering so that no eavesdropper could possibly hear she stated.

"Amelia Quinne."

Pulling back to look at the parchments reaction, she smiled broadly at the new writing that had appeared.

_Hello, Amelia Quinne. Licorice wand._

Looking back at the gargoyle one last time, she put her hands on her hips commandingly.

"Licorice wand !"

The statue instantly leapt aside. Amelia smiled again and was about to walk through the doorway onto the enchanted staircase when something in her peripheral vision caught on fire.

Yelping out of instinct, Amelia dropped the piece of parchment as she watched it burn. Realizing that the flame wasn't hot to the touch, she knew that it had been a spell (probably triggered by the password) that was meant solely to destroy the evidence of the parchment. Amelia shrugged and stepped onto the enchanted staircase. She nervously hoped that Professor Dumbledore wouldn't think much of her late arrival. She'd been extremely embarrassed to have to explain that she couldn't figure out his riddle right away.

As the stone steps came to a stop at the door of Dumbledore's headquarters, Amelia knocked politely.

"Come in." called a muffled voice from inside.

Amelia smiled and complied. There, sitting serenely behind a beautiful, ornate desk. Taking a moment to look around her, Amelia ogled at all of the books and… pictures. She jumped when one of these pictures sneezed at her.

"B-bless you." A startled reply fell from her lips. Sometimes she forgot that wizards' pictures moved and were active.

The once-Headmaster smiled kindly at her. "Thank you, young lady. Would you happen to be in Hufflepuff?"

Amelia raised her eyebrows. "No sir. I'm a Slytherin."

The Headmaster looked very grave, "Now, that can't be right. No Slytherin has ever blessed me of their own free will. Isn't that right, Headmaster Pittock?"

A surly looking man a few paintings to the left snarled.

"Of course it is, Wimplefrock. No _true _Slytherin would want anything to do with a Hufflepuff."

The first Headmaster shook angrily and bit out. "I've _told _you for the last _hundred years_! It's _Dimplerock! _My name is _Dim-ple-rock!"_

This started a heated argument between the two Headmasters. Headmaster Dimplerock was beginning to force his way into Pittock's frame when Amelia's attention was drawn away by the sound of a throat clearing.

"Miss Quinne, it might be best to leave them to themselves."

Amelia started and smiled apologetically. She went to claim the indicated seat on the opposite side of Dumbledore's desk. Amelia felt like she should say something, but she didn't know what. She waited for the professor to say what he brought her here for, but his clear blue eyes only twinkled at her merrily. Someone rebellious part of her made her frown inwardly at those eyes. What did he have to be so happy about? She'd only been at the well-known wizardry school for two weeks, and already she was a main target of the lowest, meanest, snobbiest Slytherins of the school. She was already being harassed by _Gryffindors_ of all the people, and she was struggling to keep up in almost every class save D.A.D.A and Charms.

_What _was there to twinkle merrily about? That was what Amelia wanted to know.

But she kept respectfully quiet, tense and waiting. Finally, the Professor spoke.

"I have asked you to come here for more than a few reasons, Miss Quinne. First of all, I know that your stay thus far at Hogwarts has not been what you wanted it to be. For this, I am sorry."

Amelia's eyes shot up, unintentionally colliding with the professor's knowing ones. Suddenly all of the rebellion was gone and Amelia felt sheepish. Immediately she began denying what they both knew was all too true.

"Professor Dumbledore, really, there's nothing to… be… _sorry _about. I'm just… _new. _There's nothing to help it." She finished lamely.

Dumbledore nodded. "This, of course, is true. But," he added, reaching under his desk for something. "But I think that perhaps, if we had put you in your _true _house, you would enjoy your stay here much better."

Dumbledore put what was under his desk on top of it. Amelia's brow puckered a little as she analyzed the sagging object. It was a brown and torn wizard's hat, patched and dirty in various places.

Realization dawned on her as she put together what the professor had said and the appearance of such a hat.

"Is this…?"

Dumbledore smiled. "It is indeed, Miss Quinne. This is Hogwart's very own Sorting Hat."

The sheepish feeling increased, and Amelia could even feel her ears heat up.

"Really, Professor Dumbledore, that's not necessary. I'm…" she paused, considering the lie she was about to tell. "I'm… happy…"

Dumbledore gave her a look that said that he wasn't fooled for a second. Amelia blushed outright now, choosing to stare at her knees rather than meet the kind man's gaze.

"Of course," the grandfatherly man began, "before we celebrate after we've found out who you really belong to, I do have some serious news. Amelia," he said. There was a command in his voice that made her automatically look up and give him her full attention.

"Amelia, it's about your aunt and uncle."

Amelia's eyes widened, and her heart accelerated at adrenaline began dripping into her system. Uncle Ray had warned her about this. He had wanted to send her to Hogwarts because they could teach her things that she would never learn in America. Though there had been risk, he had been resolute. The Amelia Beatrice Quinne that the Ministry knew about was a Squib and merited no attention. Amelia Beatrice _Carver _was a talented, if under educated, young witch who only wanted to learn at one of the world's most prestigious wizardry schools. She was the adoptive daughter of Raymond Carver, and had been born to young and niave parents whom she had never heard from. She knew none of her blood relatives, and the most she knew about them was that her 'foster-father' had told her that both her parents were 'Muggles'. That was the story they had created and that was what they were sticking to. If anyone found out that Amelia Carver seemed to have an astonishing lack of the Trace on her, they would simply suggest that America – especially California – was a long way away from Britain and that every system _did _have its hiccups now and then.

Could someone have tracked her anyway? Was it all for nothing? The whole reason she was in Slytherin in the first place was because Ray knew that her aunt would never suspect the daughter of her sister to be put in such a house. Everyone magical Amelia's family (except, of course, Maggie Malanoff) was reputably kind hearted and helpful when they could be. Her father, who had actually been transferred to Hogwarts in his day, had been a very successful Gryffindor. The plan had been that – even if she had been suspected of being Amelia Quinne – once her aunt and uncle saw that she was in Slytherin, they would assume they had the wrong girl.

Amelia felt like her mouth was clogged by cotton and, though she tried to swallow, her throat was dry.

"Has... has someone… found out?" she rasped out. Amelia dreaded the answer.

But Dumbledore only smiled.

"No, Amelia, no one has. But there has been another found dead in the manner that your uncle has deducted as Malanoff's dark ritual."

Almost instantly Amelia felt her tense muscles relax and her breath release. A second later she felt the guilt that another witch or wizard's death would be her relief. But this had been happening before and it was inevitable. She tried to remind herself of what Uncle Ray had so seriously pressed: she must not be found out by her aunt. No matter the cost.

So Amelia nodded shakily to Dumbledore.

"Okay. Who was it and how powerful was the person? Uncle Ray said that the more powerful the victims had been in life, the more powerful Gregory Malanoff has become."

Dumbled nodded shortly. "This is a true and wise deduction. And though the witch – May Linileth – was a witch I taught, she was average in magical skill. She became interested mostly in Muggle Studies. This, however, is not what is so pressing about the newest attack."

Amelia raised an eyebrow in question. Dumbledore sighed.

"Amelia… May Linileth was currently living in Dublin, Ireland."

The young witch nodded, wondering why he was telling her this. Then the significance of what he had said sunk in. Amelia felt the blood rush from her face in one felt swoop.

Albus Dumbledore nodded when he saw she understood.

"Until now, all the attacks have been in the Americas. Your aunt, uncle, and," he paused. "and most likely, your parents…"

Amelia bowed her head, eyes closed, and prayed that he wouldn't say it.

"… they are now in the United Kingdom."

Amelia didn't respond.

"It is likely that they know you are no longer in America."

In a second, Amelia's eyes flashed up with flinty challenge in them.

"How would they know that, Professor Dumbledore?" she hissed. "Everything was done in secrecy. The only way they could know that is if they pried it from my uncle himself. If they did that, then we would have heard about it, wouldn't we? Or am I _out of the loop_?"

"Amelia – "

"Has something happened to my uncle that no one has told me? Did he have his very _life force _sucked out of him? Or did they get to him in a more old-fashioned way?"

Dumbledore's gaze became very grave and stern. Amelia knew she may have been overreacting and that she should let him speak, but this was the last straw. This was supposed to have been a jump start to her life. This was supposed to have trained her and taught her so many things to help protect herself. But what good was protecting herself when the only person she felt safe with may have been murdered because of it?

The thought of Uncle Raymond dead – the only person she had as family – came crashing down on Amelia with horrifying weight. She suddenly got a mental image of Uncle Raymond's face, white and lifeless… with his usually intense cobalt-blue eyes, deadened and never to sparkle with smile again. She saw his death in life-like clarity, almost as if it had been a memory. Or rather, as if she was seeing the future.

Amelia's throat felt tight and she had to stop herself from calling out to her Uncle Ray. She bit her lip when she realized that the professor was staring at her, an emotion she didn't want to consider in his eyes.

_It's not real. It's not real. You're just overreacting. Uncle Ray is fine. They don't want Uncle Ray, remember? They want you. Uncle Ray is fine._

But the more she tried to convince herself of this, the more she realized that the emotion in Dumbledore's eyes was pity. As if she wanted to ward away the inevitable, she began shaking her head back and forth, even as her eyes filled with tears. She wouldn't hear it. She _couldn't _hear it.

And yet, she did hear it.

"Amelia, you are right. There has been news of your uncle that I have not told you. Three days ago – two days before May Linileth was found – your uncle had disappeared from his home. Signs of struggle were evident, but – " He stared at her intently. "but no body was found. Do you understand what that means, Amelia?"

Amelia nodded dully. It meant that her psychopathic aunt may have kept him around, unable to fight back, torturing him for information about her. But she knew her uncle, and she knew that he would never give in. Unfortunately, Raymond had taught her about the Curciatus Curse. Amelia knew full well that too much exposure to the Unforgivable Curse was a fate worse than death.

And it was all because of her.

Amelia's insides were cold, and a tear ran down her pale cheek before she could stop it. She quickly wiped it away and held back her other tears. Uncle Raymond was the only person who had ever seen her cry, and she wanted to keep it that way.

"Amelia… what this means is that Raymond Carver is most likely _alive."_ Dumbledore finally said.

Amelia looked at him with hopelessness.

"And what kind of life is he living, Professor Dumbledore?" she whispered. She knew that if she used her full voice right now, she would lose her control.

Dumbledore compressed his lips. "The situation of your uncle is, admittedly, a serious one. The fact, however, that you immediately assume the worst for him undermines your regard for his magical ability! Do you think that you would have lived so peacefully for as long as you have if your uncle was not a naturally skilled wizard?"

Amelia lifted her chin a little, feeling a little foolish and a little hopeful at the same time.

"If your uncle is alive, it is true that he is more than likely not living in supreme happiness and comfort. Nevertheless, he can take care of himself, and he is probably doing all he can right now to do just that with your wellbeing in mind. Do not grieve for him who is still fighting for you, Amelia."

Amelia began to nod slowly as Dumbledore had been speaking. A fighting light had restored itself to her eye. She knew he was right. How could she have assumed the worst? She knew her Uncle Raymond better than Dumbledore, and yet he had to point out to her the strength that she had always taken advantage of. Now it was her turn to do everything in her power to be strong for him.

"You're right, professor." She murmured in a clear voice. She felt her tears fading fast, though the ferocity of her emotions did not. Only now, instead of fierce grief, she felt the razor-sharp edge of determination.

Dumbledore nodded, a crooked smiled relieving the severity in his face.

"I know I am. I also know that you would have come to your senses sooner or later, and found your faith in your uncle. I simply want that time to be _sooner_ rather than later."

Amelia looked at him with bright eyes and tried to smile. She found that her mouth could only accommodate a feeble twitch. It seemed that the rest of her body had yet to be convinced of her uncle's safety.

Seeming to understand this, Dumbledore gestured to the forgotten Sorting Hat.

"Well, as I promised, shall we see what you were _really _meant to be?"

Hesitating only a second, Amelia nodded. Her mouth twitched again, like a flower struggling to bloom. Professor Dumbledore stood and, with an air of ceremony, walked around his desk and placed the ragged hat on her head.

Immediately a new voice filled her head.

_"Ah, a new person, I see. Much older than the usual. Yes, practically a young woman. And you've been through a good deal of stress lately, I see. Poor girl, you'll get the hang of it soon."_

Without meaning too, Amelia thought: _I hope I get Gryffindor, like my father._

Also without meaning to, the pompous face of a handsome, rogue-like Gryffindor came to mind. Frowning, Amelia mentally batted his picture away. Not, however, before a certain someone had seen it.

_"Ah, yes, that's Sirius Black. I never forget a face, or a mind, for that matter. Very brave, but very reckless fellow. I'm not surprised that he isn't in your good books._

_ "Now then, what have we here… you are smart, no doubt about that. Very quick to learn things when you set your mind to it. You're also brave and fearless when you need to be, there's enough of that to see. Perhaps a little tactless at times… but at others very crafty. Hmm… a difficult choice. Where to put you, where to put you…_

_ "Ravenclaw would let you flourish in your brightness, but that doesn't see quite right for you…_

_ "Slytherin I can tell has already rejected you, though I think I different circumstances it would have made you very successful. This is mind, I'd better make it – "_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Amelia yelped when the hat shouted as loud as it could, as if proclaiming it to all of the Great Hall. Dumbledore chuckled.

_"Oops… old habits die hard, I suppose."_

Reaching over and taking the hat from Amelia's head, Dumbledore placed it back in its shelf of honor. Amelia marveled at the enchanted thing. It looked no more extraordinary than a piece of garbage, but it had given her what she had wanted more than she had known.

"Well, Miss Quinne," said Dumbledore. He presented her with something.

"I know you will not be able to wear this in public, but you are a Gryffindor at heart, after all."

Looking down, Amelia felt her lips twitch at what he was giving her. It was a Gryffindor badge and tie, to keep for her own in secret.

Taking the items, Amelia felt that she was connected in one more way to her parents. Looking up at the remarkable wizard before her, Amelia thanked the professor whole heartedly.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Your parents and uncle would be proud."

Amelia's mouth didn't even twitch.

Instead, she beamed.


	5. Courage is for Gryffindors

**sorry for the delay. I've been procrastinating like the dickens. Still, hope you haven't abandoned ship and enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

As Amelia left Dumbledore's office, she thought about all the had transpired. After they had discovered that she was truly a Gryffindor (she hadn't let go of her new badge and tie the entire time) they had talked more on serious matters.

Dumbledore had been keeping an eye out for any sign of her uncle, and he had told her that it was possible that he was not, in fact, traveling _with _her parents, aunt, and uncle-in-law. The wise professor had reasoned that it would make more sense if he was held prisoner in some estate that the Malanoff's owned. If there was such an estate, Dumbledore had said, it was possible that it would be in the United Kingdom, considering that Gregory Malanoff was born and raised in Wales and had developed quite a fortune of his own.

The only problem was that Gregory was not a naïve wizard. He had most likely placed his estate somewhere very unlikely for a wizard of his status (pure-blood and reproachful of "tainted" wizards) to live, and had also probably cloaked it heavily with crafty protection and concealing spells.

All in all, they had confirmed that it would be no easy task to find the Malanoff's home-base. Consequently, Amelia was forced to accept the fact that it would be no easy task for them to find her uncle. Or her parents, for that matter.

The only advantage that they had so far was the fact that Malanoff seemed sloppy. The fact that both Muggle and wizard investigators had found the bodies of his victims meant that he was arrogant enough not to cover his trail. They knew that he had been everywhere from California, to Mexico, to France, and to Dublin. He had left bread crumbs in his wake, as if he was self-assured that no one would find them.

There again, there was always the possibility that he was leaving behind his victims for a purpose, and he wanted them to think that they had something to work with. This was something that the professor had not brought up, but which Amelia couldn't help herself from thinking. It was always a possibility that he was only tricking them into _thinking _that he was being careless. He could have just been playing mind games with him, letting them know that he was robbing all of these people of their magic and that no one had yet to stop him.

After she and Dumbledore had spoken for a while on the grave topic of Malanoff's possible whereabouts and his likely next victims (who were currently being guarded by the Ministry of Magic), Amelia had begun to feel hopeless. When they had breached the topic of how many Malanoff had attacked and how many he might in the future, her thoughts had taken a dark turn. Amelia frowned even now to think of how the conversation had affected her. She wondered why he had done all this killing, and to what extent. She wondered if his plan was to simply never stop. She wondered if his grand design was to follow in the footsteps of the rising Voldemort, whom had been becoming more and more terrifying as of late.

Most of all, she wondered why he had not come for her yet. He already had her parents and her uncle. Why not just finish the job? The question had put a black cloud over her mind that she had not been able to disperse. She was sure now, looking back, that Dumbledore could see the difference in her composure and had changed the direction of the conversation for her benefit.

They had begun to talk about the smaller problems in Amelia's life. Though it was true that Hogwarts was probably one of the safest places she could ever hope to be, that didn't mean that it was one of the happiest. Dumbledore seemed to know this. Even if Amelia seemed to be positively gifted in D.A.D.A and Charms, everything else was becoming a struggle for her. Never before had she had to grasp the difficult concepts of deciphering and memorizing runes. Uncle Ray had definitely never sat her down to a sheet full of Arithmancy problems before. Though Amelia had always thought that she was good with numbers in the Muggle world, the wizard equivalent seemed to give her headaches before the first few equations were solved. As far as Astronomy went, she could kiss any good grades she'd been hoping for good-bye. Though she was interested and excelled in learning the significance behind a planet or a star, she could never pick out their spot amid the tumultuous cluster of similar-looking stars in the heavens. Never mind finding complicated constellations.

The only class that she felt a true drive in (no matter how much she screwed up) was Potions. Back home with Uncle Raymond, she had always been the cook for as long as she had been able to. It was true that her interest had been initiated by the sorrowful meals that her uncle had struggled to put together for the two of them. When she had started cooking however, she found that she couldn't get enough. Cooking was always a way to show a flare, even if the meal deviated from the original goal. She had begun collecting spices that her uncle had never even heard of and had slowly but surely turned the kitchen into her own domain. She happily made breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with the occasional exception when Uncle Ray wanted to help out. Amelia felt in control and focused when she cooked, secure in a feeling of… belonging. She thought that maybe this was why she enjoyed Potions so much. It reminded her of cooking. It helped that she was always able to cook up a mean soup, whatever the type.

The drastic difference, however, between cooking and potion making was this: in cooking, if you put too much of one seasoning in or heated the meal a little too high, you could remedy the taste and still have a good outcome. In Potions, if you put too much of one ingredient in or didn't boil the brew correctly, the entire thing might just blow up in your face. Literally. (As Amelia had found out the hard way a few days in).

Nonetheless, she was determined to get it right. Dumbledore had pointed out that if she had this kind of drive with all her subjects, she might find things easier. She had counter-attacked with the fact that being so determined in Potions alone required _hours _on end of her free time and weekends to study and practice. If she were to have that same determination in all her classes, not only would she have no time to relax, she would likely go crazy with stress.

Dumbledore had nodded his agreement, but had still had the last word. He had wondered out loud if the thoughts that she would be accumulating in her 'free time' would not also end up "driving her batty, so-to-speak". In other words, with all the commotion with Malanoff and her family, perhaps it was best to be immersed in school work.

Amelia had left shortly after this chat, with Dumbledore apologizing for keeping her away for so long. She had responded that she was happy to talk with him any time. She 'd didn't tell him that it was because he was one of the only kind faces she had yet seen (besides those of the house elves, of course).

It was with such academic devotion in mind that Amelia headed toward Potions, the class that had only just started, from what Dumbledore had told her. Potions, as previously mentioned, was a class that was a bit of a struggle for her, no matter how much she liked it. But now, with a clear mind and the resolution to think of nothing but studies, maybe she would come to greater heights.

Amelia smiled faintly as she reached the classroom door. This was going to be a new beginning. She and Hogwarts had gotten off on the wrong foot at the start, but now was a _new_ start. She would devote her life to becoming a powerful enough witch to defeat Malanoff and get back her family safely. Then, when _that_ war was won, maybe she'd aid in the defeat of Voldemort. Amelia chuckled to herself at the last thought. Defeating Voldemort. He would probably be brought down by the time she graduated, and even if he wasn't, how could he possibly be brought down by a witch as young and inexperienced as she?

_Well, _Amelia thought. _Better now than never. I've got to start someplace._

It was with this self-encouragement that she tightened her hand on the door knob and pushed open.

Slughorn looked up from his beginning lecture. The moment he realized what student she was, he smiled. This gave Amelia a little boost of self-confidence. Even after being at Hogwarts for only a short time, even she knew about the professor's habit of picking favorites. Getting a smile from Slughorn – however small a token it may be – might mean that maybe she was earning attention as reward for her hard work.

"Ah, Miss Carver. How kind of you to join us. I was just discussing the increased strength Forgetfulness Potion that we will be brewing with a partner today. The effects, contrary to the one you learned about last week, last as long as three days when brewed correctly. You may find more information on it in your book, but for now, it is time to begin!"

Amelia nodded and headed to the only empty seat left in the class. She had to squeeze past a rather – uh – _well fed _Slytherin in order to be placed between a lanky-looking Gryffindor boy and a sleepy-eyed Slytherin mouse. The small Slytherin girl barely paid her any attention as she waited at her seat for the crowd at the ingredients cabinet to disperse. Wanting to get started as soon as possible, Amelia got up and decided to brave the disorderly mass of students. All she needed that wasn't already at her table was a jar of valerian sprigs.

This was how Amelia ended up finding herself wedged between a group of over zealous Gryffindor and Slytherin boys who were trying to outdo each other and get to their ingredients first. After a few moments of struggling, Amelia was elbowed out of the crowd, a pair of sore ribs richer. She narrowed her eyes at the group of pushy Slytherin boys who held her back.

_Probably part of Malfoy's group, _she thought to herself.

Her suspicion was partially confirmed as one of them, having gleaned what he had been searching for, walked by her with a very Malfoy-like sneer. Amelia glowered and huffed, beginning to start forward in order to plow her way through the aggressive group with good old-fashioned defiance. It simply wasn't in her nature to let herself be pushed around.

But something made her stop just short of bull-dozing the first prick out of the way. Something made her consider what she was doing, as if she was being watched and didn't want to make the wrong step. Taking a breath and stepping back a few paces, Amelia crossed her arms and waited for the boys to disperse. She tapped her foot in annoyance, frustrated at herself.

_Why not just shove them out of my way and be done with it? It's not as if any of them have treated me any better._

Because you are trying to make a new, academically devoted, focused life and can't afford to get into a petty scuffle over who-gets-what-ingredients-when.

_But it'd be so easy! Slughorn isn't even watching!_

That's what he wants you to think. You don't want to make a wrong step and get on his bad side. You don't have enough going for you yet to make little slip ups.

Amelia grumbled at her own argument. She was right. She knew she was right. But, darn it, she _hated _being a push-over.

Sighing in mental defeat, Amelia accepted the fact that she was going to have to adopt a calmer way of looking at things from here on out. Not _everyone _was out to get her after all. There was Severus, whom she had met during her first Potions class. They had hit it off immediately…

…oh, right. Severus was in with the Malfoy crowd too. She had forgotten about that.

Amelia frowned at where her train of thought was going. Glancing down at her silver wrist-watch (a birthday present from Uncle Ray that he had made himself) she realized only a minute had gone by during all of her wonderings. Surprisingly, all but three of her classmates – two Slytherin and one Gryffindor – were done at the ingredients cabinet.

_See what you can gain from calmly waiting?_

Amelia allowed herself a little smile of victory. Maybe making a more peaceful approach to life wouldn't be as hard as she thought.

Approaching the cabinet, Amelia spotted what she needed right off the bat…

… and it was on the top shelf.

Immediately her smile turned into a scowl of annoyance.

_Why do I have to be only five-foot-four? Why do the Valerian Sprigs have to be on the top shelf? Is this a test from the Gods of Patience? _

Leaning on her tip-toes, Amelia tried in vain to reach what she needed. After struggling and straining, she only managed to touch the edge of the container. In the end, she really just wound up pushing it back farther.

The frustrated witch landed back on her heels and glared up at the jar of Valerian Sprigs. So what if they were essential for this potion? They weren't so great. She could get along without them. Or maybe she could borrow some from a neighbor. Except for the fact that no one had accepted her as a regular student yet, there was no reason why they couldn't share, right?

But suddenly, in the midst of her mental fuming, an elegant hand reached up and snatched the object of her musing away from her sight. Looking up startled, Amelia was about to protest when the jar was put into her hands.

"Here. You looked like you were having some trouble."

Blinking up after ascertaining the fact that she had somehow attained her target, Amelia noticed the lanky, nice-looking Gryffindor in front of her. She could feel her eyebrows go impossibly high in disbelief. A _Gryffindor _had helped _her. _

_Wow. _She thought. _This patience thing has really quick rewards. Why didn't I do this sooner?_

It was then that she realized that she was staring at this unlikely savior. He seemed to be waiting awkwardly for a response. Perhaps he expected her to act like any other Slytherin and scoff at him.

"Uh – thanks. Um…" Amelia stalled. She had never been good with words.

_Unless, of course, the words are in spells or charms. Those kinds of words come quite naturally._

"I'm Remus. Remus Lupin." The boy held out his hand to shake. Amelia smiled naturally, nervousness melted away by his friendliness. She took his hand.

"I'm Amelia Carver. Nice to meet you."

The boy – Remus, she reminded herself – nodded and they began walking back to their seats. This was when she realized that he was the lanky Gryffindor she had squeezed next to earlier. More importantly, he was her brewing partner.

"You're the American student, aren't you." He stated his question as a fact.

Amelia's eyes darted to his face, which was seemingly innocent. Her defenses were up and ready.

"Yes. Yes, I am. What's it to you?"

Remus held up his hands in a gesture of surrender as he let her get to her seat.

"I didn't mean to offend you. I simply noticed that you're not like most other Slytherins much." He amended with a smile.

After a moment, Amelia relaxed after seeing his sincere expression and smiled apologetically.

"Sorry... I've just kind of had a rough time lately." She said carefully. "And I'll take that as a compliment." she added, referring to his earlier statement.

Remus smiled and they got to work. He turned out to be great Potions partner: smart and quick with his decisions. He even corrected her once. She had been about to automatically stir the simmering mixture _clockwise _when it was supposed to be stirred _counter_clockwise. Amelia kept forgetting that those things mattered with magical potions.

Remus also turned out to be a good conversational companion. While she was measuring Lethe river water into the cauldron, he told her about the time when his friend, James, had tried to slip a love potion (directed at Jasmine Parkinson, a devious Slytherin witch) into Remus' morning pumpkin juice. Amelia laughed when Remus told how he had switched their drinks at the very last minute. James got docked at least fifty points from Gryffindor over the duration of the day, due to unwanted advances and disruptions during class. Amelia laughed so hard, in fact, at Remus' impersonation of his artificially besotted friend, that she actually snorted a little.

Amelia immediately blushed and grimaced awkwardly. She hated it when she snorted.

But Remus just chuckled.

"I don't think I've ever heard that sound from a girl before." Amelia blushed harder and kept her eyes on the cauldron. Potions are extremely interesting when they simmer, you know.

"I think it's unique. In a... nice way." Remus added quickly. Glancing up in surprise, Amelia noticed now that she wasn't the only one blushing (and taking a sudden interest in the potion's progress).

She smiled broadly and felt the warmth of fondness in her chest. Who would have thought that she'd be paired up with such a sweet Gryffindor? Today was looking up already.

Amelia changed the subject as the Remus began completing the final step in their potion. She told him about the first meal she had cooked for her Uncle and how it had turned out not only burnt, but also unbelievably bitter.

"It turned out that, though the recipe had called for a bit of white cooking wine, I had ended up emptying half of a bottle of vinegar into the thing!"

Remus laughed as they began cleaning up their station. Slughorn had announce that they should be done by now, and that he was going to come around and check their brews.

"I'm glad your Potions skills are more attuned than your cooking skills. I would have had to do this whole thing by myself."

Amelia waved her hand, as if to brush his comment aside. "I'm a much better cook now. I might even say I'm good at it. In fact, without my cooking, I'd probably be hopeless at Potions." she smiled wistfully. "My specialties are soups. There's nothing better than a good soup or stew, especially in the winter. Though I'm not too shabby at deserts, either."

Remus nodded as he wiped the table of the remnants of stray ingredients. Though he wore a pleasant enough smile on his face, Amelia thought he looked as though he wanted to say something. She hoped she hadn't been talking too much. Uncle Ray had always told her that when she got on something that interested her, she couldn't be kept quiet.

It was in this way that the pair fell in to a slightly awkward, companionable silence. Minutes ticked by, with Slughorn slowly making his way over to where they were. The Potions professor seemed to be taking frequent stops to critique each potion, and he seemed none-too pleased with some of the results. Looking at their perfect potion, Amelia knew that the only way it hadn't been botched was because of Remus. Not only had he shown her kindness but he had also saved her grade for today!

_I should definitely thank him._

Clearing her throat with this intention in mind, she turned and started. "Hey, Remus - "

At the same time, Remus had tried saying, "Er, Amelia -"

The two just blinked at each other for a few moments, then laughed at each other's expressions.

"You first," offered Remus. Amelia shrugged a little and laughed.

"I just, kind of, wanted to thank you for being so nice and most likely saving this potion from getting a horrible grade." She thought for a moment before adding. "Especially since, you know, I'm a Slytherin."

Remus seemed a little surprised. He looked at her school tie before chuckling.

"What's so funny?" Amelia asked a little defensively, crossing her arm self-consciously.

"Nothing! Nothing, I just..." Remus scratched the back of his neck. "I just sort of forgot you were in Slytherin, that's all."

"Oh. Well... I guess I should take that as a compliment."

The Gryffindor nodded fervently. "Yes, you _should _take that as a compliment. Slytherins are _never _this nice, least of all to Gryffindors." His voice had taken on a hushed tone, as if he was telling her a secret. Amelia smiled conspiratorially and winked.

"Your secret's safe with me. But... what were _you _going to say?" she asked.

"What? Oh!" Remus seemed taken aback. He began fiddling with Potions instruments on the table, tactfully avoiding her eyes. "Well, I just... er... wanted to tell you that... er..."

Amelia raised an eyebrow as he sighed.

"Just that you are better at Potions that you think. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself." he finished finally. Amelia had the feeling that that wasn't what he had been about to say, but she let it slide. She didn't want to seem pushy.`

Amelia looked up from studying her partner's face when Slughorn finally made his way to their table. Peering into their cauldron, his doughy face broke out into a elated smile.

"Perfect! Absolutely perfect! Wonderful job you two, just wonderful. You may bottle up your advanced Forgetfulness Potion and set it on my desk. Don't forget to write your names! And, Miss Carver?" Slughorn addressed her. "Good work. I hope to see you keep improving."

Amelia smiled at the professor and replied that she would try her best. As Slughorn moved on to comment on their neighbor's excessively thick potion ("What did you put in here? Essence of Muck!?") Amelia and began to fill the potion bottle that they'd been given. The rest of the class passed idly, with easy conversation. Slughorn assigned a short written report on the potion they would be brewing next week - the Awakening Potion - and they were dismissed at the bell.

"See you later, Remus." Amelia called as they parted ways down the school hall. Remus waved shyly back at her, and caught up with his friends. Before Amelia turned around, she could have sworn she saw him walking by someone familiar, but she could only see the backs of their heads. Shrugging it off as coincidence, Amelia headed for Arithmancy (with the Ravenclaws). She sighed, wondering how bad of a grade she would get on their previous homework assignment. Too bad there was no Remus to help her with this one.

_Maybe my good luck will carry on into the next class. _

In any case, she was determined to understand this class's lesson. With nothing else on her mind, maybe the confusing equations would sort themselves out. Let's see, what have they learned already...

Thus going over previous lessons in her head and not paying much attention to what was going on around her, Amelia missed the stares of a certain greasy-haired Slytherin. Severus Snape follow her to their next class together, and wondered if he would have the courage to talk to her again.

_Then again, _the gloomy boy thought. _Courage is for Gryffindors. _


	6. Headaches and Rumors

**I know chapters have been coming a little slow lately, but please don't lose faith! I'd like to thank all of those who have favorited, alerted and reviewed to me already. You're all what I'm writing for!**

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Amelia's head ached as she started on solving her tenth Arithmancy equation. The only good thing was that it was her last. After teaching them their lesson for the day, Professor Tanbul had given them a ten-question "warm up" before she assigned homework. After the third problem, Amelia's first thought (other than a long sequence of numbers, letters, and symbols) was:

_Please, kill me now._

Unfortunately for her self-pitying mood, the thought of her death brought to mind Malanoff. After imagining for a few moments what it would be like if the evil wizard just waltzed through the door of her sleepy Arithmancy class and did away with her right then and there, Amelia shuddered and got back to work. Better to suffer through some learning than to meet an untimely doom.

This is what she had to keep reminding herself as she kept wishing she had brought a bottle of Aspirin with her when she came here. It turned out that the Wizardry world didn't have such things as mass-produced pain killing pills. Figures. She would have to take a quick trip to the infirmary to see if the nurse had anything for massive headaches.

Blinking down at her parchment, Amelia realized that her thoughts had been drifting and that she still hadn't finished her last problem. Pursing her lips in determination, she blinked blurrily as the problem. She willed her mind to focus.

But the confusingly coded input and equation swam beneath her eyes. There was no addition that could solve the problem. Or was there? She couldn't focus enough to figure that out far. All she saw were lines of numbers and dashes that were somehow supposed to collect themselves into an understandable answer. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get her mind back in the game after it had tasted freedom. Amelia sighed in resignation and sat back in her chair, rubbing her temples. Not only had she given herself a headache and not been able to even finish the task at hand, she was positive that more than half of what she had done was wrong.

What had her uncle said when he had convinced her to take this class? Oh yeah. Something like "But you're so good at numbers, Amelia! Why not take your skills to the next level? How hard can it be?".

_Really freaking hard, Uncle Ray. It can be outrageously, insanely, brain-numbingly hard._

It was then that Professor Tanbul announced that the bell would be ringing shortly so everyone should pay attention to their homework assignment. They would drop off their worksheets at her desk as they left. The class was to hand in an Arithmency problem of their own making and a five-inch long sheet of parchment explaining the problem and why they created their problem the way they did. This was to be handed in on Wednesday, as today was Monday.

Just as Amelia was plotting on how she would tie the noose before she hanged herself, the bell rang.

_Thank Merlin. _

Allowing the tension from her shoulders to relax, Amelia slowly gathered up her things and trudged to the front of the room to drop off her problems. By the time she made it to Professor Tanbul's desk, she was one of the last ones.

Handing her scroll of parchment to the professor while avoiding eye contact, Amelia turned on her heel to escape to freedom. Unluckily for her, Professor Tanbul had a habit of checking assignments once receiving them.

"Wait!" exclaimed the woman behind her. Amelia froze, cringing. She was caught. Now all she could do was beg for forgiveness and hope the professor wouldn't assign her an extra set of problems.

_Oh dear Merlin, please be merciful!_

Amelia didn't turn around even as she heard the click of the professor's shoes as she came closer. Cowardly move as it was, Amelia couldn't resist detaining the inevitable.

"Miss Carver, you didn't finish the exercise. And… and only two of them are correct."

Amelia felt like weeping. She had tried so hard! She had fought the tides of seemingly illogical chains of numbers and struggled to find solutions! She had spent all of her brain energy trying to think like a math god! And she only got _two problems_ right?!

"Professor Tanbul, I just don't understand." Amelia said dejectedly.

"Well, you see, there are correct calculations to these problems and only two of your outputs match the ones that I myself worked out – "

"No, not that!" Amelia burst out, horrified that her teacher took her for such an idiot that she had to spell out her failure for her. "I just don't understand Arithmancy! It's impossible for me to grasp!"

"Oh." Professor Tanbul seemed to let this soak in. "Well, dear, it's nothing to be so upset about. Perfectly normal, I'd say. However, if you want to keep any grade above Poor, I suggest you find some help."

Amelia nodded morosely. "I'll make sure and do that, professor." She sighed as she began turning away. "I'll just go find me an expert in Arithmancy who happens to be available to tutor a stupid American witch. No problem-o."

Fortunately or unfortunately (Amelia couldn't decide which) Professor Tanbul seemed to miss her blatantly sarcastic comment. Feeling dejected, Amelia began her treck out the door and into what had turned out to be an exhausting day.

* * *

Sirius, Remus, James, and Peter lounged in the Gryffindor Common room, just before lunch. Or rather, Sirius and James were lounging, Remus was unhurriedly doing homework, and Peter was scurrying and glancing around as was his normally twitchy behavior. Sirius threw a green apple in the air and caught it, playing catch with himself.

"You've been eating those things a lot, lately," commented James, glancing up from his Quidditch magazine. He had a teasing gleam in his eye. "You'd best be careful, or you'll turn into one."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "So I enjoy a good apple once in a while. It gives me something to do while you're off mooning at Evans."

James immediately frowned at the jab to his ongoing crush, but shrugged. "However you like it, mate. I just don't want to hang around a green apple with a big head, is all. I prefer strawberries myself."

"Er, Remus," Peter squeaked, coming up to their studious friend. "Do you think you can help me with my Potions work?"

Remus lifted his head and blinked, as if coming up from the fog of Astronomy work.

"Sorry, Peter, not right now. I'm really close to figuring something out." Remus let go of his quill and stretched the cramps out of his hand. "But I'm sure Sirius can help you. He's relatively decent at Potions. Aren't you, Sirius?" He added. He picked up his quill once more and buried himself back in his Astronomy. It was obvious he wasn't too worried about the answer to his question.

But the mention of Potions had reminded Sirius of something.

"Oi, speaking of Potions, who was that girl you were partnered with, Remus? I could have sworn she was wearing Slytherin colors."

More than that, he could have sworn she was the same witch who had cursed his shoes to the floor and called him a Slytherin. No good could come from a mate of his fraternizing with a girl like that.

"Hm? Oh, the girl from Potions. Her name is Amelia." Remus answered distractedly. "Real nice. She's an American who transferred here. Not very Slytherin-like at all, really."

It was Sirius' turn to frown. Real nice? Not very Slytherin-like? The first time they'd met, she'd called him a Slytherin, and the second time she not only rejected his help but also left him to rot in the dungeons with a group of _really _nasty Slytherins. 'Real nice' his wand!

"Are you sure she didn't just slip something to you while you were making your Forgetful brew that made you _think _she was 'real nice'?"

Remus glanced up at Sirius. "Do you really doubt my skills that much, Sirius?"

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly and waved the question away with the hand that held his apple. "No, no, of course not. It's just that I find it hard to believe that any Slytherin witch could be called 'real nice'. Besides, I've heard some bad things about her."

Remus' eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You have?"

"Yeah." Sirius bit into his apple. "One of the things I heard was that she's run into some rivalry. Ever heard of Burmia Nevergreen?" he asked, making up a name on the spot. Maybe if he planted a rumor or two he'd keep his mates away from a girl who was clearly nothing but trouble.

Remus sat back in his chair with his arms crossed, Astronomy forgotten. He took the bait. "No, why?"

Sirius smiled an all-knowing smile. "Well, I'm not surprised you haven't. Little Burmia was just a talented First Year who happened to spill some pumpkin juice on the new American witch. She didn't do anything at the time, but a few days later, some of Burmia's friends found her in the Owlery. Her feet had been magically infused with the floor so that she couldn't move, and by the time they found her, she was mental from the lack of food and water, nevermind all the owls flying around. She had scratches on her face and droppings in her hair. A sight to see, I heard, and now she's recovering at St. Mungo's. Apparently the trauma was more affecting than anything." Sirius took another bite of his apple, extremely pleased with his story making skills.

Remus, on the other hand, simply scoffed.

"That is truly the most ridiculous tale I've ever heard, not to mention that it has several flaws."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Really? Like what?"

"Well for one, news like _that _travels around Hogwarts at warp speed, which you should know by now. If it were true, I would have heard it somewhere else. Other than that, the professors would have cautioned students to be more careful in the Owlery to make sure other students didn't get hurt the same way. On top of _that_, even if it _did _really happen, how could you possibly know that it was Amelia who did it?"

Sirius shrugged. "Well, considering that unfortunate little Burmia kept saying 'I'm sorry Miss Amelia, it will never happen again' in that traumatized voice of hers, I'd say the implication was clear."

"Rubbish. I'm willing to be my wand that Burmia Nevergreen doesn't even exist. The Amelia I met would never do something like that, so either you're talking about a different girl or you're lying. I'm inclined to believe the latter."

Sirius looked offended as he clutched his apple to his chest. "Lying!? Is that what you say to a mate who is only trying to protect you? That alone should be proof that she bewitched you! Literally."

Remus rolled his eyes and leaned forward, looking intent to get back to his work. "Bugger off and go help Peter with his Potions. I've got enough to worry about."

This time James jumped in. "Though I do agree that the tale is a fake…" he smiled apologetically when Sirius cut him a look. "… I also think that you're acting a little protective of this girl, Remus. What's got your wand in a knot?"

"Nothing." Remus grunted.

Sirius and James shared a conspiring look.

James was the first to say it. "You _fancy _her!"

Remus visibly tried to compose himself, but they could see his shoulders tense.

"Bloody hell, mate! She's a _Slytherin _that you only spoke with once, and you've already got a mind for her!? You don't miss a beat!" James seemed crossed between looking at his friend in awe or revulsion. It was an interesting facial expression to behold, Sirius decided.

Meanwhile, Peter had been paying attention to the conversation with rapt interest. His head darted back and forth as though he was watching a complicated tennis match whenever one of the boys spoke. He seemed to be in no hurry to get started on his make-up Potions assignment.

Sirius studied this grim turn of events. So his mate was taking a liking to the fiery American witch. What did he care? It was probably just a short infatuation that would die out soon. After all, Remus _had _only spoken to the girl once, as James had pointed out. Still, Sirius couldn't help but frown at the thought of one of his mates getting involved with a Slytherin. No matter how exceedingly _different _this girl was, Sirius disliked all Slytherins. No exceptions.

Sirius took another bite from his apple and looked at the grandfather clock in the room. Lunch in the Great Hall would be served soon, and all of the good stuff would be taken if they didn't get down there.

With this in mind, Sirius launched himself from his chair and motioned to his friends.

"Come on, then. If we don't get to the Great Hall soon, there won't be anything good left to snag."

With a surreptitious look at their bookish mate, James nodded and got up to join him. Wormtail scurried over to their side, and the three of the looked to Remus, waiting for him to complete the group.

Remus in turn looked up with a slightly begrudging look on his face and sighed. Bring himself to his feet, seemingly with tremendous effort, he trudged over to where his friends stood.

Instantly smiles broke out on their faces and good humor was passed along.

"That's the way, chap," James exclaimed, slapping Remus on the back. "No girl is going to come between the Marauders!"

"Least of all a Slytherin." Sirius pointed out.

Remus smiled at his friends as they all laughed their way down to the Great Hall. Yet Sirius, steeling a searching glance every now and then, could have sworn that Remus had begun a habit of gazing too long on the Slytherin table across the room.


	7. Headaches and Friendship

**Hey guys, sorry for the short chapter. Considering I had a long weekend, you'd think I'd have time to write more, but I've been surprisingly busy! It seems that I might just have a life outside of school and fanfiction! What'd ya know?**

**To make things even, I'll make sure next week's chapter is more up to scratch. (and yes, they will be coming weekly. Every now and then I might have a burst of brilliance when extra time and story ideas intersect the universe, but for now, just look forward to the weekend.)**

**Another thank you to all those who have reviewed, and a special thanks to reviewers GryfffindorGreaser, lauren, Velika Silvertounge, Arina-Peachy for your fantastic and faithful reviews, and also thanks to SupaCrazee, pinksox55, blockheadwriter, ChasingHope19, Dreamingmydaysaway, Greenluvr14, RoseMyrtle, and werewolfrunner for either reviewing or favoriting. Thank you to anyone else that I missed that either reviewed, favorited or alerted, but honestly there are too many of you and I am too tired. Enjoy your chapter, and see ya next week!**

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After dinner in the Great Hall, Amelia hightailed it to the library. After the mass confusion of Arithmancy there had been the brief break . After that, there had been the satisfyingly understandable class of Care of Magical Creatures (where she had tried to ignore the evil glares of a certain Slytherin posse) and then Herbology. Then had come the last two slightly more brain-numbing classes of the day: Astronomy and Divination. Astronomy was actually quite interesting to her, she had to admit, but she knew it would take a lot of discipline and dedication to learn how to decipher the stars in the actual night sky. As of yet, the class was still being taught during the day, with students studying constellations from maps. Even with the stars written out plainly before her, the fact that ancient peoples had seen pictures in these clusters of light still boggled her mind. Fortunately, that class was with Ravenclaws, so she hoped that she'd be able to find someone smart and nice enough that would be willing to help her.

Divination was closely related to Astronomy in this sense. Though their professor could be a little eccentric at times, what with his love for aromatic incense and trinkets from all around the world, he was also very down-to-earth and in touch with the realistic side of his profession. He still taught a little of the traditional, crystal-ball-and-tea-leaves techniques, but his Divination went deeper than that. Apparently, in his youth (Professor Crimsworth was a man in or nearing his fifties) the professor had been initiated into a group of Centaurs after a chain of events that "might be told later", and the experience had changed the way he viewed the world. The centaurs had taught him how the entire world was mapped out amongst the stars, and how only the wisest of the wise could accurately heed their signs. He also taught how he had discovered that there are certain alignments and times of the year when magic could become more potent. This was partially why many potions were affected by the stage of the moon or the season of the year.

And while Amelia found all of this to be fascinating and she was constantly writing notes, she couldn't help but be distracted by the annoying groups of girls who only giggled and pointed at pictures in their Divination texts. Equally provoking were the boys who just lounged around and pretended as if they knew everything there was to know. It was in this class when Amelia sorely missed the brief encounter with Remus, who was so far the only nice, intelligent person who had spoken to her (other than her professors, of course). She had the feeling that the two of them could engage in long conversations just on the one subject.

After Astronomy was the much-longed for dinner in the Great Hall. Unfortunately, Amelia made the meal as quick as possible (only made easier by the lack of people trying to talk to her) and nipped it down to the library. It felt as though she had more homework than should be legal, and she wanted to get a head start on it. Hopefully, with the help of some educated writings, she'd make it through alive.

Shuffling into the vacant library, Amelia immediately headed off to a hidden little corner that she'd become quite acquainted with. Unloading her insanely heavy school bag, she went through the checklist of all that she needed to do. She skipped over D.A.D.A. and Charms in her head, for she knew she didn't have any written assignments in those classes and also knew that she wouldn't need to practice anything. Thus she decided to focus on her most challenging homework: her assignment in Arithmancy, a research paper on the nine planets in Astronomy, and the written assignment in Potions she had to complete. Everything else was really just review or reading, so she figure she'd try tackling the monster first.

Forty-five minutes later saw Amelia surrounded by books and papers trying to tell her how to riddle out Arithmancy, while she herself was pounding her head on the table in frustration. Amelia felt close to tears. She couldn't understand a _thing _of this and she didn't know anyone well enough to ask for help. Perhaps if Remus were there…

Amelia sighed and rested her head on her forearms in defeat. She had been thinking a little too much for comfort of the kind Gryffindor. The poor guy lent her an hour of companionship and she became all but obsessed about him. No, she would have to do this on her own… somehow…

Or perhaps she could just take the Poor in Arithmancy and move on with her life?

No, that wouldn't do either. What would people think of her? They already doubted the American witch simply because of her odd background. It would only make matters worse if she proved them right.

She should probably just go to Professor Tanbul for help, she knew. She was simply reluctant to do so because she had taken that route before. The professor was kind and well meaning, but she spoke a language that just went completely over Amelia's head. She knew that to ask for her help would only mean confusing her more. Basically, she was doomed.

About to resign herself to her fate, Amelia had already started getting out her Astronomy homework when she felt the sensation of no longer being alone. Pausing with her hand poised just above her bag, she looked around her, squinting into the dimly-lit corners of the ever-darkening library. A corner to her right seemed to be too dark to her, and she gazed at it suspiciously for a few moments before she became certain that she saw movement.

"Hello?" she called softly, so as to not disturb the cozy silence of the sanctuary too greatly. "Who is that?"

After a second, the unnatural shadow seemed to realize that it had been discovered. Out of the gloom emerged a familiar shape with long black locks and a sullen face.

"Severus!" said Amelia in surprise. The Slytherin boy looked at his feet and shuffled awkwardly.

Amelia immediately felt a pang for him. Even though he appeared to have been helping Lucius Malfoy and his terrorizers, she knew that he was just trying to protect himself. He had told her when they first met – it was here, in fact, in the library that she had stumbled across him – about how he was often tormented by boys who claimed to be 'braver' than he. It sickened Amelia to no end, especially now that she knew his position.

At the same time, it was his 'protection' that was tormenting her: and so the circle of arguments chased around in her head. She teetered on the edge of indecision. Should she invite him back into her good graces and act as if nothing had happened (and, in the process, gaining so help on her assignments)? Or should she stick to her pride and shove him off like he probably deserved.

The next moment decided for her.

"Er, Amelia…" Severus mumbled. "I… apologize about the other day. I… I should have stood up for you." His expression seemed to be pained as he apologized to his shoes, as if he couldn't have done something more out of his comfort zone. He probably couldn't.

Amelia blinked in surprise as this apology sunk in.

"Oh…" she didn't know what else to say. Severus seemed to not mind as he ploughed on.

"I also said some things in the past… to another friend of mine…" he seemed to be trying to form his words carefully. "… And now I haven't seen or spoken to that friend ever since. I just… didn't want the same thing to happen to you. I am sorry."

Now Amelia _really _didn't know what to say. Though she had only known Severus for a short time when she first came here (and had been struggling with a Potions assignment that the shy boy couldn't resist helping her with) she had immediately understood that he didn't go out of his way to be kind. He wasn't the kind of person who had it easy. He was the boy that spent his life walking around with a naturally brilliant mind but dull people-skills in comparison. He was the guy who spent his time walking around on two left feet, and who was a natural target for bad fortune.

This was what Amelia understood now better than she could have ever understood a few months ago, when she was living happily with her uncle.

It was also why he was immediately forgiven in her eyes.

Amelia smiled and pushed out a chair opposite her. She laughed when Severus looked up at her with startled eyes. He looked as if he didn't know what to do.

"Go on. Take a seat."

Amelia began to tidy up her studying area as he situated himself obediently.

"I'll tell you what," she began. "I'll act as if nothing ever happened in exchange for help with my homework… namely, Arithmancy homework. Sound like a fair trade, amigo?"

Looking puzzled (most likely by her slang) and eager all at once, Severus nodded. He had a light in his eye that made it seem to Amelia as if he was determined not to break this second chance. She had the hunch that he didn't get second chances often.

Severus had already scooted closer so that he was at an angle where he could see her Arithmancy paper. Looking intently at the complicated chart in _How To Decipher Arithmancy and Numerology for Wizards and Witches in Training _by Eliza Ruthben and the clumsy attempts at chart-solving that Amelia had made on a different sheet, Severus seemed to be calculating everything with stoic preciseness. It was as though the awkward, anti-social boy that had apologized to her only moments before had been transformed into a confident, brilliant scholar. Amelia could only hope that his apparent lack of communication skills wouldn't hinder him in transmitting some of his _brilliance _to her.

At least enough of it to help her get through Arithmancy with an Acceptable grade or above.

"What do you seem to be having trouble with? The codes? The layout of the charts? The number relationships?" Severus brought her attention back to the task at hand with the teacherly questions.

Amelia considered a moment before answering. What was it about Arithmancy that boggled her mind so completely and utterly? She found she couldn't put a finger on it. Thus there was only one true answer.

"Yes." She decided.

Severus cocked an eyebrow at her and gave her a considering look for a moment. He was probably trying to decide if she was serious or not. She stared straight back at him, conveying without a doubt that she was most definitely, pathetically, and _completely _serious. The only reason why she hadn't dropped the class yet was because she was so stubborn.

Finally breaking out of their brief staring contest, Severus sighed and sifted some papers towards her.

"Then there is much work to be done. I will not allow anyone learning from me to get any less than an Exceeds Expectations. But you," he gave her a pointed look. "I expect to get to an Outstanding."

Amelia smiled bashfully and bent her head to pay attention to what he was trying to help her with.

If he could get her grade to an Outstanding, he could work miracles.

A few hours later, Amelia and Severus were walking back together to the Slytherin dorms. Amelia tried not to look as dead-tired as she was, seeing that Severus seemed quite unaffected by their late-hour studying of impossible subjects. Her feet ached from hurrying around all day and she mentally berated herself for forgetting to stop by the Infirmary for a headache-relieving tonic. She would ask Severus for one (considering how much he loved and excelled at brewing potions) but she didn't want him to know how much of a pampered American she was. Better to just grin and bear it until she passed out in the comfort of her own bed…

Out of her peripheral vision she saw Severus stop, causing her to copy him. Looking around her at the nondescript dungeon hallway they had stopped in, she was about to ask him where they were until he murmured:

"Silver Snakes."

And the wall before them began to shift and change in order to let them into the Slytherin Common Room.

Amelia closed her mouth quickly and pretended as if she had expected him to do that. She wasn't sure if she'd ever get used to all these moving things…

Stepping in behind Severus, she automatically headed towards the girls' dorms, completely unaware of anything going on around her. Lucius Malfoy himself could have asked her to marry him, and she wouldn't have noticed. The throbbing ache that resounded in her head was only dulled by the thick fog of fatigue that threatened to make her lose consciousness any second. She only hoped she didn't trip on something and make a fool of herself.

No sooner had she finished this thought that she reached the stairs leading to her room… and slipped on the smooth stone, reeling backwards.

Crying out in shock, her arms did circles as she fought in vain to keep her balance. Knowing that gravity would definitely win this battle, she shut her eyes, preparing for the jarring impact of stone… only to be surprised when she stopped falling. A nervous peek ascertained that she wasn't on her back on the floor. In fact, she was nearly up right, leaning back on… something warm…

Craning her head to look behind her, she met the startled eyes of Severus Snape with her own bewildered ones. Immediately she took her weight off from him and took a step backward, keeping her eyes on his face.

Was he… blushing?

No. She probably just knocked the wind of him.

_Which reminds me…_

"Um, thank you." She said, trying to figure out why she felt so bashful all of a sudden. She continued when Severus' face made no change. "It seems that the gravity is still in tip-top shape, so no worries about that."

This statement seemed to snap him out of it. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

"Was the state of gravity ever in question?"

_Not with you, it isn't. _

Amelia chuckled nervously, wishing he could laugh at a joke when he heard one. Then again, it wasn't exactly a very good joke.

Severus suddenly looked down at his shoes shuffling awkwardly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure about it now. Amelia recognized the facial expression from her encounter with Remus.

_What is it with me today? I'm just making people awkward no matter what House I talk to._

"Well… good night." She said slowly. She gathered up her fallen bag with care, taking time enough that Severus could still say whatever he wanted to say if he chose to. But he didn't. Instead, she watched from knee-level as his shoes seemed to become disinterested with the spot they were standing on, and walked away.

_I wonder what all that was about?_

Amelia sighed as she began to ascend the dorm staircase (with considerable care the second time around). She wanted to analyze her friend's behavior, but honestly she was too dog-tired. He could have been trying to tell her that she had a magical talking mushroom sprouting from her head, and she probably wouldn't have cared. Maybe she'd think about it in the morning.

As for the present, Amelia barely even had time to kick her shoes off before her head hit the pillow and her mind stopped working. Whatever problems or curiosities that wanted her attention would have to wait.


	8. Boston Baubles

**Sorry for the delay. My creative juices have been flowing at the rate of molasses. Enjoy!**

* * *

Sirius woke up at his usual hour of the morning, feeling refreshed and ready for action. Today was mapped out to be a golden day. The first Hogsmeade trip of the year was going to take place in two days, and he, James, Remus, and Peter had already begun planning and preparing for their outing. Already he could feel the excitement of anticipation vibrating throughout his fellow classmates. Professors had not been sparing any expense in the challenging lessons and assignments they had been dolling out by the yard, so a break was much appreciated.

Sirius dressed and headed down to the Common Room with his bags in tow. He quickly scanned the room for the familiar faces of his mates. To his confusion, he didn't see them. He had thought they had beat him down when he saw their beds were vacated. He shrugged and headed out for the prospect of breakfast. James was probably just too eager at the opportunity to be able to eat and gawk at his lady love at the same time.

He whistled a low tune as he strode to the Great Hall, pondering on what he would have for breakfast or what he might get in the mail. It was when he was pondering upcoming Quidditch auditions when he heard the hurried click of a feminine step get louder from in front of him. Looking up, he watched the corner from where he thought it was coming from with some curiosity, wondering who would be this late (besides him) to breakfast. Sure enough, a few seconds later, a familiar face emerged from the corridors leading from the dungeons.

Sirius fought the urge to react visibly, staying calm even as the girl began to slow her pace and he began catching up to her. It seemed like this bloody Slytherin witch was everywhere!

_Simply don't let her know you're near, and you'll avoid conflict. _

It was an easy plan enough.

The only flaw was: when did Sirius Black ever avoid conflict?

But contrary to popular actions, Sirius didn't make any direct move to make himself noticeable to the seemingly oblivious American. In fact, he decided, the entire ordeal was immensely anti-climactic, especially once they came up to the Great Hall doors. Sirius decided to act as if nothing had happened and made a bee line to his already situated friends. But the girl – Carver, if he remembered correctly (or Amelia as Remus enjoyed referring to her) – had already caught his attention, and if something or someone had the fortune of making way into Sirius Black's attention, they weren't going to escape it so easily.

Once he sat down, he noted discreetly that Carver was lingering a bit too long by the doorway of the Great Hall. She seemed to have an unsure look on her face, even as she regarded her own House table.

Looking back down at his own table (and all the familiar and friendly faces he saw there) he wondered for a second what it must be like to belong to a House that doesn't want you. There was a wisp of a thread of a thought in the back of his mind that hinted at how hard it must be to take that…

But then he realized that she was only a Slytherin, and that all Slytherins are the same. The fact that she was having trouble in her own House had to be her fault in some way. After all, the Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes.

Sirius had just about brushed the last of his curiosity off his shoulders and gone back to his meal when a snatch from his friend's reached his ears.

"Remus? Remus are you listening? What are you always staring off at – oh."

This (spoken by James) made Sirius look to see what their studious friend was up to now. Remus was staring intently at the opposite side of the room, a confused kind of expression on his face. Sirius, against his better judgement, looked to see what interested him so much.

It was, of course, that _girl. _She was too much trouble for her own good, Sirius thought. If only Remus could realize this and move on, they would all be so much happier.

For Amelia Carver was not sitting at the farthest reaches of the Slytherin table as was per her usual. No: she had joined forces with a certain slimy, greasy-haired, know-it-all Slytherin named Severus (or rather, Snivellus) Snape. They both were now sitting at the farthest reaches of the Slytherin table, completely ignoring the dirty looks they were receiving from the Malfoy posse.

And they actually seemed to be having a pleasant conversation.

Why wasn't he surprised?

James, who disliked the certain gloomy Slytherin the most of the group, tried to make light of the situation.

"Oi, Mooney, don't let that chit get to you. She's a _Slytherin._ What did you expect? It's better just to forget you even met her."

Remus just shot James a look and set his fork down on his plate. His face said that he didn't feel much like eating anymore.

James was about to continue his useless pep talk when Lily Evans came up and plopped herself between him and Peter.

"Have you all heard about the new profess – Remus, what's wrong?" she asked immediately. Remus sighed and looked pointedly in the direction of the two Slytherins in question. Lily instinctively followed his gaze. An unidentifiable emotion crossed her face, but she quickly schooled her features and acted nonchalant.

"Oh… I suppose that's Sev … Snape." She said blandly.

When Remus said nothing, James shrugged a little uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yes, well… it's also this new American Slytherin who has apparently shot Remus with a love arrow."

Remus slanted a heated look at James but said nothing. Lily's eyebrows shot up.

"Really? That's… interesting. What's her name?" she asked, trying still to sound unflustered.

"Amelia Carver." Remus mumbled to the table.

Lily nodded. "Pretty name."

Silence ensued. Lily cleared her throat, obviously trying to look cheerful after the unexpectedly awkward turn of events.

"Well… you know there's that Hogsmeade trip coming up. Maybe you could ask her to come with you? That might be fun," she offered. She smiled a sincerely bright smile, easiness relaxing her body as she leaned across the table conspiratorially.

"If _you _like her, Remus, I know that she's probably beyond a wonderful person."

Remus looked up at this, surprise etched into his face. For a moment, Sirius wondered why his friend looked so bewildered. It wasn't a foreign concept, after all: taking the girl or boy you fancy with you to Hogsmeade was really quite common. Then he realized that the _fancy _in question was a Slytherin. He also realized that he, James, Peter, and really any other Gryffindor boy that knew about the situation had immediately put down and discouraged any contact with a Slytherin girl.

Sirius turned his gaze back to the isolated Slytherin pair. The girl's hair was pulled back into a wiry-looking French braid, revealing her open face and the companionable expression on it. Severus, seated across from her, had a shockingly different countenance than what could usually be seen of him. He was sitting straighter and looking less… Snape-like. He now had transformed into something of a normal boy (minus the greasy hair and oily face).

Sirius considered the scene before him. The girl was chatting away while Snape listened attentively. He wasn't sneering or overtly ignoring her. He didn't even look bored. Sirius was impressed that she could make such a change in the sullen boy's demeanor in the span of only a few days. If she was anyone else, he would definitely tell his friend to get to it and charm her before someone else did.

Unfortunately, she was a Slytherin, and nothing ever ended well with Slytherins.

Sirius reminded himself of this as he noticed that she seemed to be laughing… and he couldn't stop himself from wondering what her laugh sounded like.

Instead, he tuned into the discussion that was going on around him. It seemed that everyone else had moved on to the debate about what kind of goods they would buy at Honeydukes. Sirius immediately and loudly sided with the Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Jelly Beans.

"We're Gryffindors for Merlin's sake! If we're not brave enough to eat Bertie Bott's, how can we call ourselves Gryffindors!?"

Lily shook her head resolutely. "The chocolate-peanut butter brooms are the best, no comparison."

James looked offended. "Blasphemy! Chocolate Frogs are the obvious choice!"

Lily simply rolled her eyes back at him. "Oh, you just like Chocolate Frogs because of the cards."

And so they continued until breakfast was over. The Marauders and Co. thus went to their assigned classes with nothing but candy – especially not Slytherin induced drama – on their minds.

* * *

Amelia and Severus headed to D.A.D.A. together, chatting idly. It had been three days since their make-up in the library, and their friendship had unexpectedly blossomed. It hadn't taken long for Severus to cut himself off from the Malfoy clan and join forces with her. She had told him that he had to choose between them; she wasn't going to deal with having a 'friend' who would sit and watch as she was tormented by the blonde brat. He had chosen wisely in her opinion.

"… so you won't have to put up with tutoring me in Defense Against the Dark Arts. My uncle covered that for me." She was telling him. Severus nodded sagely with what she had come to recognize as a sarcastic twinge in his mouth.

"Good. I am beginning to feel as though I spend more time teaching you than the professors do." He retorted good-naturedly.

Amelia "posh"-ed at him, and the two fell into a comfortable silence. Amelia smiled to herself as she considered how much better off she was now than she had been less than a week ago. It was astounding how much the company of only one other person had made things so much easier.

The pair arrived at the D.A.D.A. room, automatically heading to a corner in the back to sit in and observe from. This had apparently always been Severus' habit, and Amelia had seen no reason to change it.

As soon as the sat themselves down, Amelia knew something was different about the room. Before, the atmosphere had felt dowdy in a way. It matched the dusty looking (and sounding) elderly professor that had seen better years. Professor Gustuffor had been tired in his lectures, always sounding as if he had been preaching the same thing over and over again for all the years of his teaching careers. The sad thing about it was, he seemed to have been through a great many adventures. He simply seemed to be… worn out.

Now the previously stuffy and dim classroom had transformed into an open space, daylight flooding in from enchanted windows. All the shelves and walls had been dusted and adorned with stately looking books. Amelia noticed a few caged creatures of various shapes and colors, either squabbling at the entering students or snoozing. Even more creatures and people of esteem were mounted in moving pictures along the walls. There were even brightly colored woven tapestries of all different shades and stories. The place had truly transformed.

But perhaps most noticeable was the professor at the head of the room, writing down notes for the day.

The bell rang and the man finished up, turning around and dusting his hands of chalk. Amelia felt her eyebrows rise at the sheer difference between the old and new Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. They were completely polar opposite.

The man before them looked to be in his early thirties. He was handsome in a rugged kind of way, as though he traveled for most of his life and was only teaching to try his hand at it. Thick black hair waved down to his ears while jade-green eyes scanned the room for students. He nodded once to everyone and clapped his hands.

"Well then, everyone, I'm your new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. My name is Professor Higgins. Let's take attendance so that I may learn all of your names, shall we?"

Immediately Amelia realized something was off in the way Professor Higgins spoke. Or perhaps it was the way he moved. But something was definitely odd about him that mad e him stick out… if only she could put her finger on it…

_Shoot. This is going to bother me all day._

Amelia stared at Higgins intently as he called students' names from his desk, checking them off on a piece of parchment. She didn't register a word that came out of his mouth. All she heard was the odd tug of familiarity in the corner of her mind. What was so different about this teacher? Why did he seem so… so….

"Amelia Carver? Miss Carver? Is there a Miss Carver here?"

Amelia was startled out of her thought process as Severus elbowed her to get her attention. She looked up owlishly at Professor Higgins, only now cottoning on to what was going on around her.

"Oh, yeah, sorry professor. That's me. Over here." She blushed and held up her hand. The professor moved to check her off the list, but paused to give her a considering look. He cocked his head to the side and pushed up the square, wire-rimmed glasses on his nose.

"You are not from around here, are you, Miss Carver."

Amelia's eyes widened and she blushed harder. Had she really sounded so obviously Californian? How embarrassing…

"You wouldn't happen to hail from America would you?" The professor asked, seeming excited.

Not knowing anything else to do, Amelia felt her ears grow warm as she nodded and slid down in her seat a little. This was _exactly_ what she needed: getting _more _attention for being the elephant in the room, especially when she opened her mouth. How perfect to be repeating the process of her first day all over again. Who knew what kind of trouble this would stir up, just when the Slytherin Slimeballs were beginning to lose interest in her.

Seeming to realize her frame of mind, Professor Higgins hurried to amend the situation.

"Please, don't take that the wrong way." He smiled knowingly. "I'm from Boston."

This caught Amelia off guard. It was especially surprising when he spoke the last three words in his native accent. All of a sudden she didn't feel so alone anymore.

The rest of the class, however, didn't share her same reaction. The Slytherins practically began hissing as the whispered condescending insults to each other. The Ravenclaws either gasped at the unexpected change from worldly Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to American misfit, or they giggled behind their hands. Amelia took a minute to ogle at the utter chaos a simple accent could cause. Did the heritage of a person really mean that much in Britain? If such was the case, Amelia hope for Professor Higgins' sake that he was a pure-blood.

Such prejudice was exhibited as the professor called for everyone to calm down. The noise only increased. Amelia grimaced and tried to make herself look a little less noticeable. She didn't really understand how, but she felt responsible somehow. A quick look at Severus sitting beside her gave her comfort in the fact that not _everyone _was rebelling against a little cultural difference. No: in fact, Severus was looking quite irked and maybe even a smidge protective as he glared at his fellow classmates who seemed to be trying to glare at _her._

And then it all stopped. The silence hit the classroom like a brick wall. There was no warning. Everyone adopted shocked faces, and Amelia's ears rang.

Their attention was drawn to the front of the room, where Professor Higgins looked flabbergasted to say the least. He looked at them all as if they had all begun to speak gibberish.

He put his wand down from where he had it positioned in the air. It only took a few moments for everyone to realize that they no longer had the ability to speak. A few students seemed to begin to protest, but then again, they couldn't make a sound.

_I hope he teaches us how to do that spell. It would definitely come in handy._

Professor Higgins held up his arms in a helpless gesture. He himself seemed speechless. For a moment, Amelia wondered if he had accidentally spelled himself.

But then he began.

"What… on _Earth… _was _that?_" he asked no one in particular. A few of the softer-spirited persons began to look guilty. Most of the Slytherins remained glowering.

"Never have I ever seen such an…. _Astounding _reaction. From an accent no less!" he lectured. "I would expect better from Hogwarts students! I mean, for crying out loud, _Albus Dumbledore _is your Headmaster! The man is the most accepting person I've ever met, and yet he teaches students who can't handle a little diversity?!"

Professor Higgins' Boston accent increased the more he spoke. Amelia assumed it was because he was losing his composure. She couldn't really blame him, after what he had just witnessed over three little words.

The professor looked slightly disgusted with the class congregated in front of him. He shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. He seemed to be composing himself.

When he spoke next, he had dropped his Boston accent and had adopted his British one. "Well if that's how you're going to be, I suggest you find another way to earn your grade in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I will _not _teach those who cannot even see the world as valuable beyond their own continent."

With a sigh, Professor Higgins seemed to be finished. Mumbling to himself as he began fiddling with something on his desk, the class waited with growing impatience for him to give them their voices back.

Once he was finished he turned to the class and began magically sending what he had prepared for them to each one of them individually. Whatever-it-was was contained in small glass baubles, and one each came to rest in front of its corresponding student. Then Professor Higgins turned to the blackboard and erased every note he had written with a flick of his wand. The magicked chalk began writing a new message in messy handwriting. The class stared at all of this in complete silence.

Amelia wondered vaguely if doing a stunt like this to students was against school rules. She was sure that a few Slytherins were going to find out very soon.

"Well, I _was _going to start a unit on Dragons today, since they are really very magnificent creatures, but I have a better idea."

He gestured to the chalkboard, where the chalk had finished its message.

"_'Be not afraid of change, but cautious of the future._' A very wise man once said this to me. It can be taken many different ways. I believe the point of this saying is that change and differences are all around us in the world, and to be afraid of it is to be afraid of Life itself. To be cautious of the future and all it brings forth to you is to be _ready _for Life and all it may _throw _at you.

"There were many of you who, when I cast my silencing spell, began to fight it. There were those of you who did not, and became aware of the change in yourself as soon as it happened. Though resistance has always had its place in history, it is seen as pointless and energy wasting when you resist something that you cannot _beat. _The charm I cast on you was one thatI created with the help of three other extremely brilliant wizards. Though I am sure that many of you have wonderful potential, none of you are to the point where you could break this charm with sheer will. Had you been paying attention to what had just happened to you, your magical instinct would have sensed this.

"Now, I have prepared for each of you an enchanted marble with a very ancient spell. The spell was used by Romani – or more commonly known as Gypsies – witches and wizards to show them who they could trust and who they could not. Traditionally, a bauble of any sort is enchanted and placed on the person who was being tested for trust. Whenever the person lied or did something deceptive, the enchantment in the bauble would make obvious in various ways the person's true thoughts or perhaps the words that define the person's soul. Your bauble are a bit modified. They are charmed so that once you have them in your possession, you cannot loose or destroy it in any way. Where the Gypsies used to use enchanted rings or scarves or jewels, enchanted marbles for you are much more efficient. Also, with the traditional charm used by the Romani, the words of a person's soul or thoughts could make themselves known in various different ways: it could become woven into their clothes, it could magically force them to speak the truth, or it could even make them do outrageously ridiculous things that would tip off the enchanter that they were being deceptive. In your case, whatever the bauble feels is fit to tell the world will be written on your forehead."

Professor Higgins looked quite satisfied with the horrified looks on student's faces. Amelia noticed that at the other side of the room, Lucius Malfoy had turned red in the face and was glaring at the professor with passionate hate. Amelia herself thought that the charm was quite brilliant. She vowed to be a saint for as long as they had to wear them.

As soon as the initial shock was over, Professor Higgins clapped his hands and took out his wand once more.

"Good. Then since the bell is about to ring…" with a sweep of his wand there was a ripple across the classroom, and instantly there were sounds of murmurs as students became accustomed to the sounds of their own voices once more.

"Oh! And one more thing." The professor added. The class stared at him with varying expressions of awe and loathing.

"Anyone who does not keep their baubles will automatically get a Troll for their grade. And believe me, I _will _be able to tell."

Just then the bell rang, as if it had waited specifically for Higgins to finish his thoughts. The odd professor gave the class a wave of his hand.

"You may go."

Amelia picked up her marble and bag and headed out the door. Severus followed her, examining his royal purple marble with a vague look of distaste.

Looking at her own marble, Amelia thought that it looked a little like the sky: it was a light blue with streaks of white threaded through it. She discovered that if she turned it just so, it glowed with a kind of inner light. She figured that it must be the magic.

Amelia turned to Severus as the strolled to History of Magic.

"I think I'm going to like that professor."


	9. Secrets and Shadows

**Sorry this came a little late, but I, for one, think that it is more than sufficient in length. Extra points if you can tell me who I had in mind with the goblin mentioned at the end. See you next week!**

* * *

Amelia woke refreshed the next morning, feeling better than she had for weeks. She couldn't remember what she had dreamed the night before, but it must have put her in a good mood. She already felt like smiling and she hadn't even splashed her face with cold water yet.

She stretched and swung her legs over the side of her bed to stumble to her feet. She grimaced and danced around on the balls of her feet as they adjusted to the brutally cold stone floor of the dungeons. Turning around, she lit a lamp and haphazardly pulling up the sheets on her bed (not that she needed to, what with the house elves, but old habits die hard) she looked down when something fell out and _clinked _on the floor.

Bend to pick it up, she ran her hand along the stone under her bed until her fingers came into to contact with something small and smooth. Pulling her hand back to look at the item more closely, she smiled at the small blue-and-white marble. She had completely forgotten about their D.A.D.A. assignment from yesterday.

The thought came unbidden: _Uncle Ray would love this enchantment._

Amelia bit her lip against the torrent of worrisome thoughts that threatened to flood her conscious mind at the thought of Uncle Ray. Taking a steadying and breath and closing her eyes, Amelia pushed all dark ponderings to the back of her mind to examine another day. She was too happy right now to ruin her mood over something that she couldn't control.

When she opened her eyes, the miniature orb she held in her hands flashed with a sudden light of magic, as if greeting her for the morning. She studied it fondly for another moment, rolling it around in her hands. Funny… the combination of the morning's cold and the sensation of the marble rolling around on her hand almost made her arm tingle. All she could pay attention to was the lamp's light glistening over the smooth glass surface. The inner magical glow of the marble was so warm and comforting, she could take her eyes off –

The sound of a waking groan from the bed next to hers snapped Amelia out of her trance. Throwing a startled look at the shifting roommate, she clamped her hand around her marble and set it on her pillow. She'd pick it back up once she washed away the last of her grogginess. She hadn't even been awake for five minutes, and she was already spacing out at an inanimate object.

Padding over to the shared bathroom of the dorm room, she allowed herself a moment to appreciate the quiet room. Usually when she was using it, she had to dodge and scramble to get to a shower or brush her teeth. Perhaps she should get up earlier more often.

Sighing contentedly, she shuffled her way over to a sink and turned the water on as cold as it would get. Leaning down, she splashed her face, feeling more awake already. She cupped her hands under the stream and cleansed herself of sleep before fumbling to turn the faucet off and reaching for a towel. It was only after she had patted her face dry that she really looked at her reflecting for the first time that morning.

The person in the mirror gasped and put a hand to her forehead. Amelia rubbed the skin there, hoping that what she was seeing was just an illusion or a prank.

But no. The words in scrawly black ink that had somehow appeared on the freshly bathed skin of her forehead would not come off and showed no signs of going away anytime soon.

As to what the words actually said, she had no idea. They appeared backwards in the mirror, apparently written so that only people facing her could read them. Quickly she scrambled for a hand-held mirror, holding it to the very edge of the big mirror hanging on the wall, creating a ninety degree angle. It was a trick she had learned from one of her friends in America. It was a way to read something written on a shirt (or your face) without taking the time to decode it in the mirror. Adjusting the mirror just so that she could see her face, she read…

_AMELIA BEATRICE QUINNE._

Amelia gawked at the mirror. She once again raised her hand to touch the skin there. It was as if she had gotten her name _tattooed on her forehead, _somehow without her knowing. No: Not only was it her name. It was her _real _name. Amelia sucked in a breath when she realized that this unknown happening could blow her cover in an instant. She had to keep this thing hidden somehow. She just wasn't quite sure if she had enough cover-up to –

"Are you done staring at yourself in the mirror yet?"

Amelia yelped in surprised and automatically slapped a hand to her forehead as she whipped around to face the intruder. Said intruder was a very annoyed looking Slytherin girl with sleep still laden in her eyes and messy black hair that appeared to have been previously housing rodents.

The girl – Alyssia, if she remembered correctly – nearly growled at her.

"What in bloody hell are you doing?"

Amelia's mind didn't quite comprehend what she was talking about at first. It was too dumbstruck. It took her a moment to realize that she probably looked as if she had seen her death and had her hand clamped firmly on her forehead.

"Uh… um… I uh… don't feel well." She stuttered out. Alyssia raised an uninterested eyebrow. Amelia continued.

"Uh, yeah… think I have a fever. Don't feel well at all." She faked a cough or two for effect. "Thinking I'm gonna go – _cough _– slip back into bed… _cough cough."_

Alyssia gave her a look and shrugged her shoulders.

"Do what you feel you need. Just let me go to the bathroom, if you please."

Amelia blinked. She was free? She wasn't found out yet? How did that happen?

"Ahem." The girl tapped her foot impatiently.

"Uh- right. I'll just get out of your way now… go back to bed…" Amelia skirted past the crabby Slytherin, trying to seem as natural as possible (which wasn't much). As soon as Alyssia had closed the door to the bathroom, Amelia all but sprinted to her bed. Leaping on her bed as if it was a safety float, she flung the curtains closed and sat huddled in her own dim space.

_Alright. Calm down. You have to have a clear head if you're going to solve this. Just don't panic. Do not panic._

This is what Amelia was thinking as she unconsciously began scrubbing at her forehead and looking for her wand.

_Okay. Maybe I can spell it off. I remember a spell for acne. Why wouldn't it work for magical tattoos, right? _

But as she patted around frantically for her wand, it wasn't a stick of magical wood that her fingers encountered first. Amelia froze when she remembered the marble. Something Professor Higgins had said yesterday came rushing back to her in sudden clarity.

_Whatever your bauble feels bit to tell the world will be – _

"_ – written on your forehead."_ Amelia finished her thought out loud. She looked at the winking marble in astonishment. It felt it was right to tell the world who she really was and blow her cover?! Where did that come in to play!?

Amelia swallowed thickly and thought.

_Okay, so you know what caused this mess. Now you have to figure out how to fix it. You can't just stay in bed all day, or you'll be doomed as far as classes go. Besides, who knows if it will wear off in a few hours or a few weeks. You just have to cover it up…_

And idea suddenly struck her and Amelia jumped at the chance. Sidling up to the side of her bed, she peeked out of the curtains to make sure no one was looking in her direction before she quickly dove into her nightstand drawer and pulled out one of her scarves. Bringing it back within the confines of the bed curtain, she looked at it warily.

If she wore it, she'd be proudly showing off just how American she was and probably get teased and mocked to no end.

If she didn't wear it, there would be questions to answer, which would lead to authorities to explain to, which could possibly lead to the wrong people hearing that a certain Amelia Quinne was currently enrolled in a certain wizardry school. If Dumbledore was right, Malanoff and her deranged aunt had already been tracking her like a pair of starved hunting dogs. If even a whiff of her exact whereabouts came past them… she shuddered to think of what would happen as a result.

The head scarf it was.

Tying the bright tie-die scarf around her head like a bandana, she knotted it as tight as it would go. Picking up the hand held mirror that she had never let go of, she examined her work. She half expected for the letters to magically bleed through the scarf or make themselves known somehow. But nothing of the sort happened, and it seemed that she was, for the time being, safe.

Amelia puffed a breath out of her chest and slowly crawled out of her hiding place to get dressed the rest of the way.

_So much for it being a nice day._

Amelia dressed quickly and shot a wary glance at the bathroom before deciding against reentering. Though her teeth begged to be brushed, she just didn't want to take the chance of discovery. In any case, most of the other girls were rising from their beds and would soon start questioning her about her _accessory _if she didn't get her butt out of there.

Amelia hefted her school bag over her should and followed her own advice, not looking back once as she sped out of the room and through the Common Room. Avoiding the looks of any other Slytherins already awake, she went through the portal door and made a bee line to Dumbledore's office. If there was anyone who could fix this, it was him.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was having a nice conversation with Jack Higgins, his new Defense of the Dark Arts teacher. Old Henry Gustuffor had been long due for retirement, but Albus had simply been having trouble finding a replacement for the teaching veteran. For any other subject, it would be a snap. Hogwarts was, after all, a very prestigious wizardry school. However, seeing as how Professor Gustuffor had been the one of the choice few who had actually been able to stay alive or untraumatized after teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts subject for more than a year, Albus felt that he could understand the hesitancy of his fellow wizards to step up to the job.

Everything had turned out alright in the end, nevertheless. Fresh, young Jack Higgins came in and generously applied for the exact subject needed (though his resume had made it clear that he wasn't picky about what subject was best) and had consequently saved Gustuffor from another year of teaching students that should have been spent relaxing in retirement.

Albus was finding that he very much liked this new professor, and was congratulating himself once more for the fortune of coming across such a rare person. He generally liked to get to know his professors as people, and not just employees. Jack was not disappointing in the slightest.

Over their talk, Albus learned that the young man actually hailed from Boston, which immediately made him think of his bright, troubled pupil, Miss Carver. What were the odds that Hogwarts would welcome not one, but two American wizards in one year? The transfers were certainly very rare, due partly to the sheer distance between the two countries alone. Then there was the added effect of Britain's wizardry advancement over America's. America was many things, but a well-developed wizardry education world it was not. Albus was surprised that someone so frankly gifted a wizard as Jack Higgins was would have had such bare teaching foundations as a child growing up on the shores of Boston. But apparently he, like Amelia, had gotten lucky and had found a teacher who could at least give him the door that began the process of unlocking his potential. A lucky year it must have been to have received two such diamonds-in-the-rough.

Albus was now depicting his first year as a professor, back when things had been much different.

"It really seemed as though the students were more scared and complacent than I was - even though I hadn't the foggiest as to what to do. Nowadays, it seems as though students seem a touch more... aggressive." said the older man.

Higgins barked a laugh in apparent agreement. "Don't I know it. You wouldn't believe my class the other day, when ... "

But the sudden sound of footsteps ascending stairs and shouting caused Higgins to trail off. Both of the wizards turned their heads to look at the entry door to the Headmaster's office.

_"professor Dumbledore!"_ the muffled voice called. There was only one student he knew of in his school who would be shouting and speaking as such. He wondered what on Earth was the problem now. Albus refrained himself from glancing at Jack nervously. The man was trustworthy enough, as far as he could determine. Besides, if need be, it would just take a simple Oblivious spell to make sure that whatever secret Amelia was about to come shouting to the world about would stay just that - a secret.

They both raised their eyebrows as the door suddenly burst open.

"Professor Dumble - "

Amelia cut herself off as she registered that there was more than just Dumbledore in the room. She stared wide eyed and mouth agape at the Defense of the Dark Arts professor, looking as if Dumbledore had a talking snowman sitting across from him.

"Oh... um..."

Albus smiled at the flustered girl. "Come sit, please, Miss Carver. May I ask what is so detrimental? I'm sure Professor Higgins here wouldn't mind."

Higgins blinked as if appalled by the thought. "Oh no, of course not. I do like your scarf, by the way, Miss Carver. Very fashionable."

Amelia smiled nervously and crossed the room to take a seat. The two men looked at her directly. The girl's eyes darted from one face to the other, all of a sudden much more timid than she had seemed only moments before.

"Well the thing is, Professor Dumbledore... the thing I wanted to talk you about was about my family... you see..." she started slowly. She was obviously chosing her words carefully, trying to drop the hint. Dumbledore in turn decided to drop his own hint.

"Whatever you want to say about your family may be said in the presence of Professor Higgins, Miss Carver. Please proceed."

Amelia took a few more hesitant looks at Professor Higgins, and Albus began to wonder what had her so worried. Something to do with her new fashion statement perhaps?

Amelia finally sighed and seemed to give in to an inner struggle. She reached behind her head to untie the knot of the colorful bandana.

"Well you see, Professors... I kind of woke up with _this,"_ she took off the scarf and laid it in her lap. "...on my forehead."

Albus felt his eyebrows begin to rise on his head. He honestly didn't know whether to laugh or be worried. Either this was a joke performed by a fellow student that could hold threatening connotations... or something else entirely.

_AMELIA BEATRICE QUINNE._

"What an... interesting developement." he commented lightly.

Amelia reached into her school robes pocket and withdrew something small. As she opened the palm of her hand, Albus was mildly surprised to observe a small blue marble with patches of white. It glinted with a inner enchantment.

"Oh!" Higgins exclaimed next to him. Albus gave his attention to the man who looked as if he had figured out an astonishing puzzle. "You are that American girl in one of my classes. I changed your assignment to be enchanted with the marbles I had spelled. I hadn't thought I would use them for another week or so, but... it seemed perfect for that class."

Albus wasn't sure exactly what Higgins was talking about, but he gathered enough to realize that the marble was indeed enchanted and had in fact been given to Amelia by a bright, trustworthy teacher. This eased Albus' fears somewhat.

"Is there any connection between the two? Miss Carver's... marked forehead and the enchantment in the marble?" Dumbledore asked the professor next to him.

Higgins looked to be in his own thoughts, considering the marble presented to him. "Well yes, there's no other explanation. I enchanted these marbles with the _Romana Fides _spell, of which I'm sure you are acquainted with, Headmaster..."

Dumbledore nodded in confirmation, recalling that the spell was used by Romani so that they could tell who to trust and who to leave off with. It had been in a rather fascinating book he had read when he was a young man. He wished briefly that he could remember the title.

"Continue."

Higgins nodded. "Yes, well... I just don't understand why the enchantment would seem to... give Miss Carver a new name."

At this observation, Albus felt the gaze of the troubled student suddenly become fixated on him. She expected him to get her out of this mess.

Albus sighed and turned to Professor Higgins.

"Jack, there are a few things that you do not know about Miss Carver. However, before I tell them to you, I would like to know if there is any counterspell that could rid her of this marking. It is very important that she not have this particular brand."

Seeming more confused than not, Jack replied in an off hand manner: "Well, there is a spell that can be adapted to allow the... uh... _markings _fade away at the hour of noon. I don't know of any other way, but the Romani did love the witching hour for many of their spells. I'm sure it would be simple enough to convert twelve at midnight to twelve at noon."

Albus agreed. To Amelia he apologized. "I'm afraid you'll have to wear your colorful covering until that time, Miss Carver. Professor Higgins, if you would please..."

After a moment of silence, Professor Higgins seemed to come out of his own thoughts, looking startled.

"What? Oh yes, right, of course... Miss Carver, face me please."

Thus he took out his wand and closed his eyes in concentration. Occasionally he murmured to himself loud enough for the other two to hear.

"Midnight... convert to... that... yes. So," he opened his eyes and leveled his wand at Amelia's forehead. The girl seemed to tense up, even though she knew that the professor would do nothing to harm her... at least, not in the presence of Dumbledore.

"_Nosolvo Inquison." _

At his words, Higgins' wand burst for a short golden light that struck Amelia in the dead center of her forehead. Yelping in surprise, the girl immediately lift a hand to the spot and rubbed. The girl's face pinched into a grumpy pout.

"That stung! And now I have a headache." she complained.

Higgins grimaced and shrugged. "Sorry."

With a commanding eye, Dumbledore turned to Amelia. "Miss Carver, you are to keep your accessory on firmly until the hour of noon. Otherwise, you may go about your day as you would normally. You may leave now."

Amelia pouted a little more, but nodded. But as she began to rise from her seat, Professor Higgins spoke out.

"Wait!" he attracted the looks of both of the others. "I still don't know what the spell meant by 'Amelia Beatrice Quinne'."

Amelia threw an alarmed look at Albus, who sighed. He had been hoping it wouldn't have to come to this. The less people who knew about Amelia, the better. But he had been thinking that Amelia needed a confident other than himself for a long time now, and who better than a kind teacher who happened to be from her native country? It was not a matter of the security of her secret. Dumbledore knew for certain that Jack Higgins could be trusted.

It was more a matter if Amelia would trust him herself.

"Amelia, why don't you sit down and we'll both tell Professor Higgins what he needs to know. I will have a house elf come up and serve us all breakfast. I promise you will be done in time for your first class.''

Once again, Amelia seemed hesitant. But apparently her faith in Albus outweighed her own uncertainty and she nodded and settled herself back down.

Albus began. "You see, Jack, this whole affair began about sixteen years ago, when Amelia here was just born..."

Dumbledore was good to his word, and about half of the way through his explanation, a house elf brought them all up some food. Higgins munched on a muffin slowly as Amelia jumped in with detail.

"I've never even seen my parents. All I have is a note they left with me when they left me with Uncle Ray. He's the only reason I'm even here in the first place." she stated, looking downcastedly at her toast. She found that it was becoming easier to talk about her uncle without thinking of him as lost to her forever. There was no reason to think that he wouldn't be alright.

Jack nodded, trying to absorb everything. "So... where is Malanoff now? And why hasn't there been anything about him in the news?"

Dumbledore answered this. "We are not certain where Gregory and his wife are right now, but he has been in the news. Have you, per chance, heard about the seemingly random killings in which victims appear to be dead of the Killing Curse?"

With a wrinkled brow, Jack nodded slowly. "Yes... I think I know what you're talking about. The victims all have strange red patches on their hands and forehead. Is that Malanoff?"

The older wizard nodded. "Yes, we believe so. The Ministry of Magic has been investigating and trailing the dark wizard ever since Raymond Carver made known his presence. With Voldemort in the rise, however, it has been concluded that it would be safest and best for the public if the situation was kept quite. At least until he becomes more of a threat."

"But shouldn't we warn the public of what danger they could be in?" came Higgins' upset question. He was slowly but surely relapsing back into his Bostonian accent the more he became immersed in the story.

Nodding in sympathy, as if he shared his sentiment, Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately, the public is already so skittish about Voldemort that there is not much that they has not been done to ascertain better security. The last thing we need at this point is panic. Besides, Malanoff has not yet grown very strong. Nothing is doomed yet."

And so they all continued until every question had been answered and every detail given. Professor Higgins was at last up to scratch with his young pupil's unknown life.

A bell rang throughout the castle, and everyone looked at a clock hanging on the wall.

Dumbledore smiled. "I did say that I would be finished before the first hour of school, did I not? Carry on with your day, both of you, and enjoy the weather. We won't be seeing many more sunny days like this for a while."

Amelia and Professor Higgins' nodded, and took their leave. The two walked by each other in silence, absorbing all that had happened.

Before they exited the gargoyle, Amelia replaced her scarf on her head. The student and professor shared a look.

"Well then, professor..." Amelia stuck out her hand for him to shake, not really knowing what else to do. Where had all her energy from the morning gone? All of a sudden she felt drained. "I suppose I'll see you in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Jack smiled and took her hand. "That you will... Miss Quinne." He gave her a conspiratorial wink and turned to walk back to his classroom. Amelia smiled and began walking to Charms.

She hadn't realized how much she missed someone calling her by her real name. Perhaps confiding in the professor hadn't been a bad idea after all.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the professor and the girl, a shadow lurked behind of tapestry of Hoggle the Honest Goblin, having wished to not be seen. Even as the professor spoke the name of the girl, the shadow smiled a triumphant smile.

The target had been found.


End file.
